The Ransom of Little Deer
by Blueroan
Summary: Billy Black and his father were not the first Native Peoples Carlisle Cullen had come in contact with since coming to America. That noble honor belonged to Little Deer and he would never forget her or her courage. pre-Twilight, set in 1810, Carlisle's POV
1. Chapter 1

**Note: I do not own or have rights to twilight or it's characters!!**

**The Ransom of Little Deer**

**Summary:**

_Billy Black and his father were not the first Native Peoples that Carlisle Cullen had come in contact with since coming to America. That noble honor belonged to Little Deer, and he would never forget her . . . or her courage._

__________________________________________________________________________

**Chapter 1**

**Tragic Circumstances**

_Autumn, 1810_

_Somewhere deep in the recently acquired Louisiana Purchas, near what would today be northern Nebraska or southern South Dakota._

I raised my head from the neck of the buck that I'd just drained and ran my tongue along my upper lips, licking away the last reaming drops of the animal's blood. I savored the last salty, slightly coppery flavor of the buck's essence. While it eased the fierce eternal burning in my throat, the relief was only partial and temporary.

The wide open spaces and plentiful game had been just the respite I had needed. Living among humans was the source of both my greatest joy in my life as well as my greatest challenge. Soon I would return to what passed for the _civilized world_ in this fledgling country. Back to the cities, back to my work as a doctor, back to my lonely façade of humanity.

I lowered the lifeless carcass to the grassy earth beside me and prepared to bury it. Suddenly a strangely familiar scent ticked my nose causing me to curse softly. I looked up and turned my face into the faint breeze. She was quick, and I only caught the briefest glimpse of her fleeing form as she dashed back into the shelter of the trees. Humans were exceedingly rare in this remote wilderness and that fact had lulled me into a false sense of security, had I been more careful, I wouldn't be faced with the grim task now at hand.

After hurriedly disposing of the remains of my meal, I started after the human female. Her scent made her easy enough to track and my inhuman speed made catching up to her even easier. Before she realized it, I was in front of her. She slammed, full speed, into the rock hard wall of my body and careened backwards.

I watched sadly as she sprawled onto her back in the soft ferns at my feet. She gazed up at me with wide eyes full of fear and a hint of confusion. By the look of her, I surmised that she was very young, a child really perhaps no more than fifteen at the most. This fact saddened me even more, because of my carelessness, she would never see adulthood.

My judicious eye continued to move over her, appraising her as she trembled at my feet. She appeared to be Native; the soft doeskin dress she wore was common to the tribes in the area. On closer inspection however I realized something was amiss. Her eyes were jade green, not brown as they should be, and her skin, where it peeked from deeper beneath the sleeve of her dress, was several shades lighter than the costmary coppery bronze. Her hair was the final clue; it was a dull mouse brown instead of raven's wing black.

The girl before me was a captive, obviously of European descent. I shook my head in grief, her already tragic life was about to come to an even more tragic end. I would make her death as quick and painless as I possibly could, I promised myself as I moved closer to her . . . positioning myself for the kill. I _would not_ cause her to suffer.

"What's your name, young one?" I whispered softly, trying to keep her calm so that she wouldn't run. I didn't want to have to chase her again.

I was about to kill an innocent child, an act I abhorred, the least I could do was know her name before I dispatched her.

She didn't answer me, but gave me a questioning look instead. I moaned softly and silently cursed myself a second time. I'd spoken in English and she obviously didn't understand. How young had she been when she was taken, I wondered. Swiftly I ran my mind through the local Native dialects, deciding to try Sioux.

"What's your name, young one?" I asked again.

Her eyes lit with recognition, but still she didn't answer . . . at least not verbally. What she did next startled me. Her delicate hands moved lightly and with practiced confidence as she made a series of gestures. I watched her lips move soundlessly as she mouthed the accompanying words to herself.

I frowned; obviously she knew and understood Sioux because she was moving her mouth in tune with the gestures of the Trader's Tongue, a form of sign language used to communicate between traders from different tribes.

Piecing the two together I learned her name was Little Deer.

"How old are you, Little Deer?" I asked gently as I edged closer to her, her starling method of answer had caused me to take a couple of steps backwards.

A thoughtful look twisted her face before she finally signed her answer, _fifteen winters_. I was right about her age and my gut churned in protest at what I was contemplating doing, yet it was necessary. I would have to live with my atrocious crime for all eternity.

Before I could follow up on my intentions, curiosity stepped in and yet another question bubbled its way to my mouth. "Why are you out here all alone?"

It was several days walk at human speed to the nearest Native settlement. I watched as she looked down at her travel worn moccasins and shook her head. It was then that I noticed her dress was dirty and had holes in it. Her mouse brown hair was dull and looked as though it hadn't seen a comb in a very long time. Little Deer wasn't particularly well kept, and this fact made me wonder if someone might be ill treating her. I suppressed an irritated growl; it was the lowest form of human filth that abused children.

'_And your about to join their number,'_ my inner voice chided, I pushed the voice aside and returned my focus to Little Dear. I loathed that voice, not because it spoke truth to me, but because it sounded like my father.

"You can tell me, I'll keep your secret." I coaxed when I had my composure again.

Her hands were a firestorm of movement and her lips moved just as quickly as she related her story. I settled into the soft ferns to listen.

_Her father was a war chief named Red Pony and her mother, Ground Squirrel, was his first wife. Little Deer was taken from her birth family when she was five and adopted by her parents to replace a daughter of the same age lost to a fever. The three of them were very happy together until Red Pony took a second wife, Sweet Grass. _

_Her father's second wife soon conceived a child, a son, whom Little Deer loved as a brother. Her father doted on both his children but Sweet Grass was eaten up with jealousy. She wanted Red Pony to send Little Deer away in favor of her son. When her father refused Sweet Grass became angry and vengeful. Not long after that, Ground Squirrel died mysteriously after a feast. This left Little Deer in the keeping of her second mother._

_Sweet Grass was a woman of wants; she wanted everything that the roving traders brought to the village. Her father, seeking to please his young wife, indulged her desires. This went on until there was nothing left of her father's wealth. Then one day a group of fur traders came through trading guns, steel knives, axes, whisky and other things for pelts._

_Sweet Grass's eye was caught by a bolt of read cloth and a small hand mirror. Gleefully she went to tell her husband. Red Pony had nothing of value to trade and he tried to explain this to his wife. She would hear none of it and went back the traders to work out a deal on her own._

_Eventually Sweet Grass convinced the leader of the traders to take Little Deer in trade for the items she desired. Thus began the worst part of her young life. She was knocked in the head and spirited away in the night. When she woke, she was bound and gagged and tied like a sack of grain across the back of a horse._

_The leader of the trade group, a worthless man named Jack Savoy, decided to keep Little Deer and live with her as a wife. Her misery was compounded when they reached the remote trading post that her 'husband' owned. Here she was treated as little better that a slave._

_A brutal year went by until one night Jack came home more inebriated than usually. In his drunken state he attempted to beat Little Deer for some frivolous infraction and in the process he fell and struck his head against the corner of the fireplace mantel. He was dead before he hit the ground. Fearing the others would accuse her of murder; Little Deer fled into the night, and had been running ever since. Her emancipation was now three weeks old._

Her hands went still then as she fixed me with her wide green eyes. She was waiting for a response. I was still processing the story; it was an incredible tale of hardship and courage for one so young. Admiration for the girl washed through me and I couldn't help but smile. That smile was soon replaced by a frown again, her courage only made the inevitable more difficult for me.

Curiosity came to my rescue once more. "Forgive me, but why do you use the Trader's Tongue? You seem to understand my words; will you not answer me in words? I would love to hear you speak."

Her sad green eyes drifted once more toward her feet and she would not answer me, except with her silent tears. Unsure what I should do, I scooted over closer and gently patted her back. I fought back my unusually strong urge to embrace her. I'd never felt the desire to touch a human this strongly before and I found it very unnerving.

"Don't cry, Little Deer, I only wanted to know why you don't speak." I soothed. "If you don't wish to tell me, you don't have too."

When she was calm again she looked up to meet my gaze. Her face was swollen and deep sadness still rested in the jade depths of her eyes. She took a jagged breath and then slowly, tentatively, she opened her mouth.

I was aghast at the sight she reviled to me and my dead heart turned to ice even as my stomach rolled. There, in the center of her mouth, was an empty space where the poor girl's tongue should have been. Someone had viciously cut it out. She clamped her mouth shut quickly and began sobbing again.

This time I didn't fight my urges, I took my blanket from the bed roll that I carried for appearances sake and draped it around Little Deer's hunched shoulders. Then I settled beside her and wrapped my arm around her. She cried for what seemed like hours until she fell asleep in my arms.

* * * *

The sun had long set as I watched Little Deer began to stir towards wakefulness. I had made a campfire for her, to keep the chill of the autumn night a bay, and while she slept I managed to catch a nice juicy rabbit for her supper. The rabbit was almost done to perfection and the smell of roasting meat filled the small clearing where we camped.

I sighed as I watched her turn over under the blankets. My will to kill the girl began to wane as I listened to her story. The gruesome sight of her missing tongue dispelled the possibility from my mind completely. I couldn't kill her, no matter what she might have witnessed, her suffering had earned her the right to live, grow old, and be happy.

I knew I couldn't stay with her here in the wilderness, nor could I risk bringing her back with me to civilization, but I was determined to do something for her, even if this simply meant seeing her back safely to her people. The thought of abandoning her out her out here was unacceptably to me. I would do my best for this remarkably brave young girl.

"Little Deer," I murmured her name softly in Sioux.

Her green eyes opened slowly and she smiled at me from across the fire. Warm familial feeling coursed through me, feelings I thought surely almost two century as a vampire would have snuffed out altogether. I suspected this would be what I might feel if I were looking into the smiling face of a younger sister.

"Stop it!" I growled as I scolded myself. "Keep your wits about you man, that sort of distraction very nearly caused your undoing in the first place."

Little Deer made a questioning grunt and I looked into her eyes once more. Of course I'd spoken English, so she didn't understand what I said but I guessed she had caught my harsh tone and it alarmed her.

"Don't be afraid," I soothed. "I sometimes talk to myself." It was true, most of the time I was the only person around to talk to. A sudden wave of loneliness surged through me. I pushed this aside and moved to take the rabbit off the fire before it burned and wasn't fit to eat. "Are you hungry?"

She eyed the rabbit nervously and I heard her stomach growl. Human sings of hunger were just as obvious to me as a vampire's sings of thirst. I held the spitted hare out towards her and indicated she should take it.

After several tense moments she took the offering, but she didn't tear into it ravenously as I had expected. Instead, she delicately picked off bits of the tender flesh and then smashed the meat a few times between her thumb and forefingers before putting it in her mouth. Even then, I noted, she had a difficult time swallowing.

Mentally I kicked myself, I should have considered this. "Is there something that is easier for you to eat?" I asked as I watched her take another timid bite.

She smiled and made the sign for fish. Of course I groaned, and determined that from then on she would have fresh trout whenever possible.

Once Little Deer had finished her meal and washed it down with half the water in my canteen, I decided to broach one of the topics I had been pondering while she slept.

"Little Deer, among my people I'm a healer," I began gently. "Will you let me look more closely at your mouth? I promise I will not hurt you."

She watched me as she considered my request, her green eyes seemed to be searching my very soul . . . for what I couldn't fathom. I could, however, count ever emotion that danced behind her jade eyes. Finally she nodded.

I took her face lightly between my skilled hands and turned her towards the firelight. I didn't need the light to see of course, but it was a humanism that I had picked up over the years to cover what I was. I indicated that she should open her mouth and she complied, but slowly. Her shame and fear were obvious.

I tried to shush her fear away with soft whispers as I peered into the cavern of her mouth. It was unsettling to see the damage that had been done to her, and I could only guess at what other physical insults she had been forced to endure. Suddenly uncomfortable with those thoughts, I shifted my mind into clinical mode.

The stump left behind after the impromptu amputation, had healed over leaving a thick layer of scar tissue to cover the wound. By my best estimation, the injury was about five months old. Being as small as she was, I was genuinely surprised that she had survived it, as she would have bled profusely for several days.

Feeling a bit more confident, I probed the stump gingerly with my finger. Instantly she jumped.

"Does it hurt?" I asked softly.

She shook her head, _no_, and I was relieved, perhaps it was just the coldness of my touch that had startled her. Then, to my great dismay, she promptly nodded her head, _yes_. Yes or no, which was it, did she hurt or not. Then I realized what she must truly mean, it did hurt _sometimes_.

"I'm going to touch you again Little Deer, do not fear." I warned her soothingly, and then I probed the stump again. On my second try, I ascertained that while her injury had healed satisfactorily given the time frame, it wouldn't be completely healed for many more months. A soft, highly nutritious diet would be very beneficial to her.

With my examination finished I released her face and moved a little ways away. "Will you tell me how this happened?" I asked gently.

She made a flurry of signs but it was her lips more than her hands that I watched as she silently mouthed the words.

"_My husband was drunk, as usually, and he called himself teaching me English."_ She began silently. _"He was irritated with how slowly I learned, Sweet Grass told him I learned fast. I was repeating English words for him when I slipped up and said the word for knife in Sioux instead. He became furious and slapped me and I fell to the floor. Then he said if I would not speak English, I would not speak at all. He grabbed me by the hair and called for his brother Henry. Together they did this to me."_

I took a deep cleansing breath and let it out slowly. Had Jack not already been dead, I would have taken great pleasure in hunting him down and finishing him off . . . the disgusting brute would beg for death in the end. A part of me wanted to go after Henry and the thought made me growl. I had often felt strongly about the plight of my human patients, but this reaction was stronger than I was accustomed too. Why was this girl having such an effect on me, I wondered?

Little Deer's startled gasp drew me from my thoughts and made me push the blood lust from my mind. _'Remember who you are Cullen,'_ I chided myself, _'you're not an animal like_ _Jack and Henry.'_

"I'm sorry Little Deer; please don't be afraid, I won't hurt you." I smiled reassuringly at her. "By the way, my name is . . . Carlisle."


	2. Chapter 2

**Note: I do not own or have rights to Twilight!!!!**

Chapter 2

**Panther Eyes**

Over the course of the next several days Little Deer and I traveled together. On the third day of our journey, I suggested taking her back to her home village. The notion was eagerly accepted by my companion . . . except she wasn't entirely sure which way to go in order to find her home. It seemed her captors keep her bound and blindfolded until they arrived at the trading post. Poor Little Deer wasn't even sure she was currently headed in the right direction.

Unfortunately, I was of little help. Before leaving Boston to come to this wild land, I'd spent considerable time studying the newly printed maps and writings of the intrepid Meriwether Lewis and William Clark. In spite of the knowledge I'd gleaned from the explorers notes and the fact that I had spent the better part of the past month in the remote place, I felt as helpless as a newborn. As a precautionary measure, I had deliberately avoided human contact and I had absolutely no idea which band of the Sioux Nation poor Little Deer belonged to, or where they might currently be encamped.

Undaunted by the fact that we were seemingly lost, we carried on. As we went, I decided to foster my companion's continuing education and took to slipping a few English words into our conversation. This was quite deliberate on my part, but I played the innocent each time. While I absolutely did not agree with her former husband's teaching methods, I did feel that learning English would be an asset to the girl.

By our fourth night on the road, we had relaxed into a comfortable routine. Little Deer gathered the firewood and made a bed for herself while I hunted. I made sure I took a deer or elk each time I went out in order to state my need as being so near to my human traveling companion inflamed my thirst. When I returned to camp, I would make a fire while she cleaned and spitted the two freshly caught trout I always brought back with me.

To my amazement Little Deer never question me about what she had witnessed in the meadow or about why it was that she always ended up eating both trout and I didn't eat anything. Humans, as a general rule, were insatiably curious and my mouth literally itched to ask her about her apparent disinterest in my overtly odd nature, but I held my peace. I was rewarded for my patience when she reviled the answers to this puzzle herself without any prompting what so ever form me.

As we talked after dinner, she kept repeating the name, _Panther Eyes_, at odd points during our conversation. At first I thought this was someone from her village, a relative, a childhood playmate, or perhaps even a suitor. Little Deer was attractive enough for a human her age, she was very intelligent, and the daughter of a war chief surly she would have many suitors. Nothing I considered, however, prepared me for the truth when I inquired about it.

"_You are Panther Eyes."_ She told me plainly. _"Carlisle is a nice name, but hard to say and I have no sign for it. Panther Eyes fits better and I can say it in Trader Tongue."_

She went on to confess that she thought I was one of the _Sky People_, a race of semi-deities who walked the earth in human form, but who could change into animals at will. According to her, the Sky People were the children of Thunder Man and Rain Woman.

She surmised that I had been hunting in my panther form when she came across me in the meowed and that was why I had the carcass of a dead deer in my hands. It also explained, in her mind, why I could run so fast, and why I was hard and cold to the touch. Even the brief glimpse she had gotten of me in the sunny meadow shimmering like ten thousand diamonds under the noon day sky could be explained away with her theory . . . as children of Thunder Man and Rain Woman; the Sky People were the bringers of the rainbow. This was our birthright.

"_Ever Sky Being looks different, you have the golden eyes of a panther, the great cat who stalks on silent feet, so that must be what you are when you are not a man."_

I wasn't entirely sure what prompted her uneasiness, but after her bold confession she looked down at her feet nervously and began to tremble. I hoped it wasn't my reaction; I had endeavored to maintain a calm even expression while she spoke. When she looked up again her eyes were full of wonder, and a touch of fear.

"_I do not mean to offend,"_ her lips twitched sadly as she mouthed silently what her hands repeated. _"If you wish me to call you Carlisle, I will."_

I smiled as I reached for and took her hand, stopping it in mid gesture. "No. Panther Eyes will do fine; I am honored to be called so." In that moment, nothing would have pleased me more that to have her call me by that venerable name from now until forever.

"_Will you tell me something?"_ she asked shyly, the movement of her hands mirrored the hesitance inside her.

"If I can," I replied honestly.

"_The Sky People only come to help those with great power, those who are destine to aid the People in some way,"_ her expression twisted as she carefully considered her words. _"Why are you helping me, I have no power, I'm no one, everyone says so."_

"Everyone, Little Deer, or just Sweet Grass and that beast who called himself your husband," I questioned gently. I hated it that she thought so little of herself, why couldn't she see just how truly remarkable she was? "What did Red Pony have to say, or Ground Squirrel?"

"_They loved me, and always said I was . . . special."_

"Do you doubt them?"

I watched as she shook her head.

"_What am I destined to do then?"_She asked in response. _"How will I help the People?"_

'_Now you've gone and done it, oh mighty and omniscient Sky Being,'_ my inner voice mocked in the derogatory tone my father always used. _'What are you going to tell her?'_

I pushed the scolding voice into the deepest recess of my mind in order to focus on trying to concoct an answer, but nothing seemed appropriate. Finally I settled on the truth.

"That I cannot tell you, Little Deer, your destiny is known only to the Creator." I answered simply and then insisted that it was time she went to bed.

* * * *

A week and a half past very quickly until, late one afternoon, Little Deer recognized the river that we came too. Once across the narrow ribbon of water, it was another two days walk to her village. I was both relieved and sad. While I wanted to get Little Deer home safely, I knew that I would surly miss her company.

As I watched my human companion sleep on our final night camped together, I thought about all the loneliness I had endured since awakening to this hellish life. In my travels through Europe, I had hoped to find others that lived my lifestyle, but alas I found none. My brief stay with the Volturi had brought me a short respite from my solitude. While Aro and his brothers treated me kindly, as an honored guest, I soon grew weary of being looked upon as an oddity. Their well meaning efforts to 'cure me' of my aversion to human blood finally caused me to politely take my leave.

Aro, of the Volturi, had suggested I find myself a mate. He was happily married to Sulpicia and I admired the deep abiding love that I saw in their relationship. Finding a mate seemed like sound advice, but in my wanderings I had found no female vampire that suited me. My only solace, the only thing that made my life even remotely bearable was my work. The fleeting social contact I had with my human patients kept the shadow of utter despair at bay, but like the animal blood I drank to survive, it didn't quite fully satisfy my needs.

The time I'd spent in Little Deer's company had only served to underscore my growing need for something more. I enjoyed my conversations with her, listening to her imaginative stories, and just knowing that she would be there, waiting for me, when I returned to our campsite. In short, my time spent with this amazing young lady shined a brilliant light on the lynch pin that was missing from my life, the thing I wanted more than anything . . . a family.

When we broke camp the next morning, I noticed Little Deer was very quiet. Throughout our journey she had entertained me with all manner of stories. I remembered thinking that for someone who couldn't speak, she talked an awful lot. Now she was withdrawn and sullen.

Maybe she's afraid, I thought. Perhaps she's unsure of how her family will react to her return. I couldn't really understand why. What I desired, more than anything on earth, was a family and I could only imagined that if I stood in Red Pony's place, and my missing daughter was suddenly restored to me, I would be overjoyed. I called to mind the father from the biblical story of the prodigal son; his welcoming gestures would pale in comparison to my own. My joy would be a thousand fold to have a missing son or daughter brought back to me. Then the notion of Sweet Grass entered my mind and my thoughts turned sour, what sort of new torment would her step-mother invent for her.

'_Perhaps it's something else.'_ my inner voice purred. _'Has it occurred to you that she has come to like you, and is contemplating missing your company . . . just as you will surely miss hers?' _

I dismissed the thought; the human memory was ephemeral, in a few short years I would be little more than a ghost . . . if she remembered me at all. I, on the other hand, would never forget her, a millennium from now her glowing face and shimmering jade eyes would still be as clear in my memory as if she were standing before me.

At mid-day, we stopped. The village was very close now and I felt comfortable that Little Deer could complete the journey on her own. This was just as good a time and place to say good-by as any. I was totally unprepared for the sudden rush of pain I felt at having to part company with my new companion. _'It's for the best_ _Cullen.'_ I reminded myself. _'She's human and you're not. She needs her own kind.'_

At first she shot me a questioning look, but then as realization set in, sadness filled her eyes. I wanted to say something that would ease her pain, as it was apparent to me now that my inner voice had been right. _'Ephemeral,'_ I reminded myself, _'like_ _smoke from a dying campfire,'_ I would soon fade from her recollection.

"I've enjoyed your company Little Deer," I tried to sound comforting, but I was having little success. _'And I_ _shall never forget you.'_ I added to mentally because it was the truth.

She forced a small sad smile and nodded.

"It's not much further to your home; you should be able to make it with no trouble." My words didn't make either of us feel any better. "I would ask a favor of you, please don't mention your encounter with me . . . _to anyone_. I can't stress this enough, it would be dangerous for both of us if you did." Then I paused, thought of Aro, and added. "It would make Thunder Man _very_ angry."

Again she nodded and then she did something unexpected . . . she through her arms around my middle and hugged me. In a very uncharacteristic gesture, I returned her embrace before setting her on her way alone. I watched her walk towards the horizon for a time and then I turned and made my own way towards the east.

*

I walked until nightfall; the thick canopy of trees had hid me from the sun all afternoon. I strolled at human speed, excusing this to myself as a precaution in case anyone from Little Deer's village might be about. When the sky was dark and the sea of stars came out, I settled under a sycamore tree and studied the constellations. I remained there all night studying the stars, watching the silver moon as it marched across the sky, and reflecting on my life to date.

When morning came I tried to prod myself into moving, but I found that I just couldn't seem to do it. For reasons I couldn't comprehend, I didn't have the heart to leave the spot I was in. Every time I went to get up, the very earth upon which I sat seemed to pull me back down. It was as if I had become anchored to the spot. I passed the day under the tree, filling several pages of my worn sketchbook with renderings of the remarkable young woman I'd been so privileged to meet and sojourn with.

When night came again I continued my meditative studies of the heavens. In the small hours of the morning, when the moon was at its zenith, my predatory ears caught the distant sound of something crashing through the underbrush. I smiled wickedly to myself; tonight my meal would come to me. When the breeze stirred I inhaled deeply, expecting the musky scent of deer to fill my nose. What I smelled instead made me groan with exasperation, it was the scent of a human . . . one human in particular to be precise, Little Deer.

I instantly wondered if I'd made the right decision in sparing her life. She needed to get over me, and the sooner the better, I though angrily. As I started to get up and run off into the night, the breeze picked up again and the coppery back note of blood accompanied Little Deer's scent. Irritation was quickly replaced with concern and instead of running away I went looking for her.

It didn't take long to locate the frail human girl. She had collapsed in a heap on the forest floor less than a mile from the sycamore tree. The smell of blood wafting off of her was almost intolerable, even for me. I approached her still form and slowly turned her over. What I saw made me growl with anger.

Her face was bruised and swollen, dried blood caked her forehead and hair. Her left arm was obviously broken, and with each breath I could hear the tell tale sign of cracked ribs --- at least two of them. In spite of her injuries, however, her heartbeat was strong, a burning beacon of her courage.

I was about to begin a closer examination of her facial injuries, when the sound of men shouting and hounds baying filled my sensitive ears. Little Deer's pursuers were very close and would be upon us soon. As gently as I could, and minding her injuries, I scooped Little Deer into my arms. Before long we were racing at top speed through the dark forest. I intended to put as much distance as possible between us and those individuals who did this.

I wanted answers,I thought as I ran, and just as soon as she was conscious again and able to talk, I would question her about this.

_______________________________________________________________________________________

**Footnote:** Little Deer's theroy about Carlisle being one of the _Sky People_ is pure Blueroan. While I've mentioned the First Peoples web sit and quoted stories from it before, this came straigh out of my over active imagination. Sorry!!


	3. Chapter 3

**Note: I do not own or have rights to Twilight!!!**

Chapter 3

**Mending the Broken**

As providence would have it, just before dawn we stumbled upon a ramshackle trapper's cabin. So overgrown was it with bramble and small scruffy trees that I had almost missed it completely. Only the faintly lingering human scent that always clung to places of habitation, even long abandoned ones, had drawn me to the hovel.

It wasn't much to look at by civilized standers, a section of the roof had fallen in and it looked as if no one had inhabited the place for many years. Still it would provide shelter from the coming day, and a chance for me to examine and treat Little Deer's injuries.

I pushed the door in with my booted foot and quickly scanned the room, assessing every inch of it with my keen eye. A thick layer of dust and debris covered everything, and the pungent aroma of rodent droppings hung thick in the stale air. Hygienically it was disgusting, but it would have to do. A few miles back the dense forest had given way to a stretch of open grass land, and the day threatened to be sunny. My previous carelessness had caused me to learn my lesson well; never again would I risk being caught in the act of being a vampire.

I found a cot in the far corner of the single room structure. This part of the cabin still retained its roof and it appeared sound to me. I gently deposited Little Deer on top of the lumpy mattress and covered her with my meager wool blanket. There were several tasks I needed to complete before the sun came out in full force. I needed to hunt, of course, the smell of my companion's warm rich blood had aroused my thirst but that would have to wait until night. For now, collecting wood for a fire and obtaining water for Little Deer became my top priority.

Twenty minutes later I was arranging kindling in the long disused stone hearth. As I coaxed the fledgling fire into life I heard Little Deer moan. She had done that often as I carried her through the night and each time it tore at my silent heart. She was in pain and I knew moving her had only exasperated it. To complicate matters, she was already beginning to show signs of infection. Her skin was warmer to the touch that it should be, and I could smell the tell tale back note of illness in her personal scent.

With the fire going I moved to tending my patient's wounds. Head injuries were always a serious concern, so I carefully washed the dried blood from Little Deer's forehead. Beneath the gore I found a deep gash along her hairline that, under optimal conditions, I would have stitched. Without the instruments in my field kit, however, I could only bandage it. I took the extra linen shirt I carried and began ripping it into long, three finger wide strips to use for bandages.

While the rest of her face was badly bruised, I was relieved to find that none of the fragile bones were broken.

Next I moved to her arm. With one swift movement I re-aligned the ends of the broken bones. Little Deer groaned, but the jolt of pain was brief and she quickly settled again. With the worst part over, I could now splint the arm so that the bone would heal straight. I used several straight sticks and a length of linen to immobilize Little Deer's arm.

With great care I removed her doeskin dress and tenderly probed her right side; broken ribs were tricky to deal with. To my irritation, I found her whole torso covered in a patchwork of blue and purple bruises. When I gingerly rolled her over, I discovered these marks extended to her back as well. It was clear that she had been horribly beaten. I considered it cruel to treat dumb beasts this way, to treat a child in this manor was an unforgivable sin.

I was correct in my diagnosis; the force of her beating had cracked two ribs on her right side. This sort of injury generally healed well, but one couldn't splint them. The best I could do here was to tightly wrap her torso and hope to keep her still until the bones started knitting.

While she recuperated for my ministrations, I found a pot among the clutter scattered around the cabin and, after washing it, I filled it with clean water and set it near the fire. During our long dark flight, I had stopped briefly near a stream to collect willow bark. From the notes I'd read in the Lewis and Clark journals, the Natives use willow bark to treat pain and fever. When the water came to a boil I would steep the bark to make a tea for Little Deer. It would have been preferable to give her laudanum, but I had left that along with the rest of my medical supplies back in Boston.

"As long as I live," I mumbled to myself as I poked the fire, "I'll never again leave my medical bag behind when I travel. There's no telling who I might meet."

*****

One day passed into two and two days passed into three. By the end of the first day Little Deer was running a high fever that worsened on the second day. I pushed as much of the willow bark tea down her as I could manage and I used cold compresses to soothe her fevered brow. By the end of the second day she was delirious and alternated between sweats and chills. She was young with an iron clad constitution, if I could just get her fever to break, I was confident Little Deer would pull through.

I rummaged through the ruined cabin yet again, searching for anything that might be useful to my patient. My efforts yielded only a few items of value; a rather dusty but otherwise serviceable buffalo robe, two overly large shirts in need of washing before they would be fit to use, a dull rusty hunting knife, and a half of a jug of very potent rum. I pressed the robe into service as a blanket for my patient, in spite of the fire, the nights were starting to turn cold and I didn't want her to catch a chill.

After giving them a sound washing, I put one of the shirts on her to replace the doeskin dress I removed in order to wrap her ribs. Unfortunately, the dress was beyond salvaging as it was soiled with blood and ripped in several places. I hoped Little Deer would forgive me for burning it.

I now sat watching her sleep, peacefully for a change. Her fever was down, but not gone. The tea seemed to be working, easing her pain at least a little and helping with the fever too. I focused my hearing on her breathing, checking once again for the gurgling wet sound that would indicate the presence of pneumonia. This was a common complication in those with cracked ribs. I smiled with relief when I noted clear lung sounds.

My mind wandered as she slept, what could possibly have happened to her. Surly her father hadn't inflicted such grim injuries to his own daughter. Instantly my thought turned to Sweet Grass, had her vengeful step mother been to blame? I wouldn't put it past her, not after she had so heartlessly sold her step-daughter into slavery for a bolt of red cloth and a hand mirror. I shook my head in disgust.

As a species, vampires were sterile . . . our unchanging bodies made us incapable of having children. Yet I found an overwhelming desire among most females of my kind to have and neuter offspring. So strong was this desire that, in the past, the very desperate had stooped to changing small children. This practice was strictly forbidden now, an offence punishable by death. Still it proved to illustrate a bleak point, we who were incapably of producing young from our own bodies valued them more that those for whom child baring was as natural as breathing.

I heard Little Deer take a deep breath and moan. Her heart rate and breathing had been steadily increasing over the past few minutes, she was drifting towards wakefulness. I moved my stool closer to the side of her bed, so she would see me when she woke.

"Little Deer," I called softly. Her eyes burst open and she struggled to get out of bed. "Easy young one, you're safe," I soothed as I gently pushed her back into the lumpy mattress.

Her eyes locked with mine and I watched recognition blaze in their green depths. _"Panther Eyes,"_ she mouthed wordlessly. _"I begged the Creator to send me help . ._ _. I begged him to send you, and you came."_ A faint smile ghosted across her lips as her eyes drifted closed again.

"Wait, Little Deer," I wasn't ready to lose her to unconsciousness again just yet. I had waited for four tense days to look into those eyes and know she would live. "What happened to you?"I asked, trying to give her a focus to keep her with me.

She gingerly raised her hands to begin her explanation and winced with pain. I watched a confused scowl crease her brow as she saw her splinted left arm. She looked up at me and I could clearly read the questioning and frustration in her eyes.

"Your arm is broken," I told her gently, "as are two of your ribs." I took her right hand lightly in mine and placed her palm against her side, just over the fractured rib bones. "Here," I whispered. "And you have a nasty gash in your forehead, over you left eye." I didn't bother to mention her lesser injuries, the copious busies would make her sore for now, but would fade with time.

Frustration became her primary emotion. She patted her lips with the fingertips of her right hand and then indignantly shook that same hand in my face. Even without words I clearly understood what she meant.

"Calm down, Little Deer, and listen to me." I reach for her still writhing right hand and held it, hoping to quell her anxiety as well as hold her attention. "I don't need the Trader's Tongue to understand you. It's not your hand gestures that I read . . . it's your lips, as you silently mouth your word in perfect Sioux."

I didn't tell her that I could actually hear some of her words, if she happened to exhale through her moving lips. That would require an explanation of my extraordinary inhuman hearing. I didn't wish to overwhelm her with more information than she needed, if I could get her to trust my lip reading, it would be enough.

Several minutes passed as she considered what I told her. I watched as the look of consternation that twisted her features slowly faded. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly before closing her eyes, an expression I recognized, she was gathering her thoughts. Finally she began her story, her lips moved soundlessly but I caught each and every word perfectly. In an effort to be comforting, I continued to hold her hand as she spoke. I could feel her hand twitching beneath mine with the unconscious desire to mimic her words in trader's sign.

_Her arrival in the village went unnoticed. As she walked among them, the women continued their work, the children continued their games, and the men paid her no mind. Even the dogs remained silent as she wandered through the camp. To all, she was just another girl going about her business. Little Deer found this as unsettling as she did comforting._

_After a time, she arrived at the place where her father made his lodge, expecting to find him sitting near the door taking his ease. As a respected elder, this was his right. Instead she found devastation. The lodge had been burned and then filled in with earth. She knew this could only mean one thing, but Little Deer refused to believe the evidence before her. _

_She hurriedly left the ruined lodge and went in search of Gray Mouse, her father's widowed cousin. When Ground Squirrel died, Gray Mouse took over much of the duties of teaching Little Deer the ways of womanhood. Sweet Grass had no time for teaching a child that was not her own. She found the woman outside the lodge she shared with her daughter, Spotted Fawn, putting the final touches on a hide she was tanning. Instantly the old woman recognized her and Little Deer was offered a warm welcome._

_Once safety inside the matronly woman's lodge, Gray Mouse explained how Red Pony had gone out looking for his missing daughter. Sweet Grass lied to him, telling him that his miscreant child had run off with the traders of her own accord, but her father knew his daughter well and refused to believe this. Eventually one of the other women, who had overheard Sweet Grass making her trade with Jack Savoy, told Red Pony the truth. Her father divorced Sweet Grass according to the costumes of the tribe._

_Six months ago, word arrived that Savoy and his party were plying their goods at a neighboring village. Red Pony and several other warriors set out to find him and free Little Deer. The party returned empty handed and Red Pony was gravely injured. He died of his wounds three days later._

_As Gray Mouse was offering her guest food and drink, three young warriors burst through the lodge door and seized Little Deer. They hauled her from the lodge even as Gray Mouse protested loudly. One of the warriors struck the old woman, silencing her. Little Deer was drug to the center of the village where a knot of men and one woman waited. The woman was Sweet Grass and beside her, with a wicked grin curling his lips, was Henry Savoy._

_Shortly after Little Deer escaped, Henry came to the village looking for her. He demanded extra payment from Sweet Grass, to replace the value of his runaway property. The divorce left Sweet Grass destitute, like a widow, and she survived off the charity of others and what her son's hunting skills could provide. The only thing she had to offer in payment was herself. Sweet Grass and Savoy were quickly married. _

_Now she stood before her step mother and the brother of the man who had tormented her for a year. Henry accused her of murdering his brother Jack and demanded her life. Fortunately, the tribal chief had been a good friend of Red Pony's and her father was still highly regarded by the tribal council. The chief insisted on proof. He would not turn Little Deer over to Henry unless either he could either prove her guilt or she freely confessed to the crime._

_Little Deer vehemently insisted on her innocents, showing the severed stump of her tongue as proof of her ill-treatment. She was taken to an empty lodge reserved for guests and two warriors were placed outside the door, for her protection. Their presence didn't afford her much in the way of protection, however, because not long after sun down Savoy and two of his lackeys bribed the guards with whisky and sent them away. _

_Henry decided Little Deer needed to have her memory refreshed so that she could manage to tell the truth . . . after that, the savage beating began. Savoy and his men soon exhausted themselves and fell asleep in the lodge. The next morning when she was asked by the chief if she had killed Jack Savoy, she maintained her incense in spite of her beating. _

_This infuriated Henry and he decided more persuasive measures were needed. Her torture continued through the day and into the night. When the men left the lodge in the evening to find food at the communal fire, Gray Mouse slipped inside the dark lodge and cut Little Deer's bonds. The old woman gave her a parfleche full of travel food and a skin of water and then she helped Little Deer to the outer edge of the village and into the shelter of the trees. _

_No sooner had the old woman left her, than the alarm sounded in the village behind her. In spite of her injuries she took off at a painful run. The sound of Savoy's hounds barked and howled in the distance behind her, spurring her to push her injured body to flee even faster. In an effort to throw off the dogs, she emptied the food from the parfleche scattering it as she ran. Eventually she even discarded the empty rawhide pouch. _

_She ran until her battered body could take the abuse of it no longer. Her mortal body betrayed her, and she collapsed on the ground in the forest. The last thing she remembered before passing out was her silent plea to the Creator for help._

Her hand ceased its twitching where it rested under mine and her lips went silent . . . her sad story was over.

I couldn't believe what I just heard. My emotions ran the gamete from pity to rage. My heart went out to poor Little Deer; she'd suffered far more that one her age should. At the same time my deep seated desire to slowly disembowel Henry Savoy burned like fire inside me. In all my existence I couldn't remember ever being this angry at _anyone_ or _anything_ before.

'_You should be angry at yourself.'_ My father's voice mocked. _'After all, was it not you who delivered her into the hands of her enemies?' _

Ordinarily my inner voice, in the guise of father's mocking tone and ugly word, was easy enough to dismiss. In the beginning of this life, it served as my constant torment, had called me a monster, and urged me to seek my destruction. In my inexperience and weakness, I had listened and sought death in every way I could think of. As time passed, however, I grew in maturity. Soon I found a way to live without harming humans and I became immune to crass voice in my head . . . well almost.

While I seldom found its harsh accusations bothersome these days, today it was correct. Taking Little Deer home had been my idea . . . I was the Judas who offered her up to those foul men. I should have known better, Little Deer was lost for a month in the wilderness, seeking her way home. It should have occurred to me that Henry would make a bee line for her village and lie in wait for her.

A gentle hand tugged at my sleeve pulled my attention back to the present. Little Deer was staring at me with the most intents look in her eyes. I wasn't in control of my emotions at that moment, and my face must have been a confusing mask. I could tell she was concerned.

I smiled at her, hoping to settle her anxiousness. "Don't be afraid, child; no one is ever going to hurt you like that again," I whispered.

I wasn't exactly sure how I would keep that promise, but even if caused the death of me, I was determined to honor it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Note:** I do not own or have rights to Twilight or its characters

Chapter 4

**Guardianship**

I set the first of a dozen newly cut section of sod carefully over the rafters and cross slats that I had replaced earlier that morning. I wasn't much of a carpenter, but fixing the gaping hole in the roof was now a priority. It was a cold blustery day and the thick blanket of clouds that stretched endlessly from horizon to horizon would soon dump their burden of snow. Little Deer and I had inhabited the cabin for over a week now, and while her injuries were mending satisfactorily she wouldn't be in any condition to travel for some time to come. It was painfully obvious to me now that we would be spending the winter together here in the wilderness.

I was apprehensive about spending so much unbroken time in a confined space with a human. This wasn't because I didn't enjoy Little Deer's company nor was it because I disliked her in any way; it was simply because I had never been in this position before. I wasn't worried about maintaining my secret, she thought I a Sky Being and I was content to let her continue to believe this. Neither was I worried that I would lose control and accidently drink her essence, if my control was to be tempted in this way, I would have fallen prey to the urge while carrying her bleeding body away from her pressures.

No, the reason for my apprehension stemmed from my ingrained habits . . . nearly two centuries worth of strict avoidance of close human contact. Yes, I lived and worked among them and yes, as a doctor I tended the bruised and battered bodies, but these contacts were fleeting. This situation would be very different, I was about to attempt the unthinkable for a vampire, I was going to cohabit, for several cold bleak months . . . with a human.

Of course, I would have to set some rules, I thought as I put another section of sod in place, but at the moment I couldn't even fathom what those rules ought to be. For the moment, things between us were fairly uncomplicated; her injuries had her confined to her bed. That wouldn't last indefinitely; soon she would be well enough to have some limited movement.

One rule would certainly have to be: _'Under no circumstance was she to follow me_ _when I left at night to hunt'._ While I was able to control myself around the smell of human blood under all normal circumstances, once I gave myself over completely to my bestial nature during the hunt there were no guarantees. I'd never tested my resolve under those strained conditions before and I didn't wish to do so now. If she were to accidently get in the way while I was in the hazy unpredictable throws of my blood lust, I might not be able to prevent myself from killing her.

A soft moan from the cabin below drew my attention and I poked my head down between the rafters to check on my companion. By the slow steady sound of her heartbeat, I could tell she was still sleeping. A grimace twisted her serene face and she moaned again, then just as quickly her expression smoothed and she became quiet once more. Little Deer was dreaming. I shook my head and went back to my work.

I set aside the issue of rules to ruminate on later. No sooner had I cleared that problem for the immediate focus of my mind that another one happily plopped itself down for my consideration.

'_Tell me, demon, what are your intentions towards this girl?'_ the grumpy voice of my father snarled in my mind. '_Surly you don't intend to condemn her poor soul to hellfire and damnation along with your own. Though she may be a heathen, there is yet hope for her redemption . . . your fate on the other hand is firmly sealed.'_

An exasperated sigh escaped me as I continued to work on the roof. "No." I answered the voice curtly. "I have no intention whatsoever of turning her. I had my humanity stolen from me; I will not stoop to stealing the same from another."

'_That's very decent of you, beast,'_ the crass voice replied. _'However, if you truly wish to be altruistic you should destroy yourself before your thin veneer of control crumbles and your true nature takes hold. Wouldn't it be a travesty if, through your own selfish desire to live, you ended up doing something . . . regrettable, to the girl."_

I growled faintly, and with all the mental strength I could muster I shoved my father's wicked voice as far into the distant recess of my mind as I could. Once I had the bothersome drone cleared from my senses I climbed down the makeshift ladder to fetch more slabs of sod. While I hated the biting specter of my father's words, I had to admit that he brought up a valid point . . . what _did_ I intend to do with Little Deer?

In the short term I intended to see her recover from her injuries, and help her through the rugged winter. Beyond that, I was unsure. It was apparent that I couldn't return her to her people, with her father dead she had no reason to go back and there was no one among them to protect her. And then there was the matter of Henry Savoy, so long as that disgusting brute continued to draw breath in this world he would be a threat to Little Deer's safety.

No, she most certainly couldn't go back to her tribe, but I couldn't justify leaving her out here alone in the wilderness either. She had survived three week by herself after she escaped from Jack, but when I found her . . . or rather, when she found me, she had no water, no food, no blanket, and no means of making a fire. Food, water, shelter, and warmth were the four pillars necessary for human survival. It was a wonder she had lasted three weeks.

Could I take her back to civilization with me? If I did, would it be fair to subject her to my nomadic lifestyle, always moving here and there? How would I explain to others her sudden presence in my life, would I call her a sister or a cousin . . . or a daughter? What would I say as she continued to grow older while I remained eternally youthful? Little Deer understood that Sky People were immortal and therefore wouldn't question my appearance, but those around us might take notice. After living in the wilderness among the Natives for so long, would she be able to adapt to urban life?

I shook my head as I carried several more slabs of sod up the ladder. The more I thought, the murkier the answers became. Only one thing remained clear to me, I was quite taken with Little Deer and I was bound and determined to do my best to look after her, to be her guardian, all the days of her life . . . regardless of what that might mean.

*****

Later that evening, I helped Little Deer to sit up in bed; she winced with pain from her ribs and whimpered softly.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. I didn't mean to cause her pain, but sitting up was beneficial for her, too much lying flat of the back in one place invited pneumonia.

Once she was comfortable, I went to the fireside and retrieved her dinner. I wasn't a stellar cook, but roasting trout over an open fire didn't require the talent of the royal chef. I set the plate before her, coaxing her to eat. Her appetite had been poor since waking and the willow bark tea only made thing worse, causing nausea so severe that I had to stop giving it to her altogether.

"Come now," I coaxed gently. "At least take a little."

I peeled back the crispy skin of the trout to revile the perfectly succulent white flesh beneath. Deftly, I pinched off a small bit of the tender meat, mashed it between my fingers as I had seen her do and then I offered it to her. Never, in all my years as a practitioner of the healing arts, had I ever hand fed a human before and the act of doing so now made me feel oddly paternal.

I brushed her lips with the mashed fish between my fingers, cooing all the while as I had heard countless mothers do with their young children. Finally I was rewarded when Little Deer accepted the food from my fingers. By the time she turned her head away and refused more, she had eaten nearly a whole trout. Needless to say, I was pleased.

Now that she was fed, I banked the fire in the hearth so that Little Deer would sleep warm and cozy through the night. Then I took my full canteen and sat down beside her on the narrow bed. Over the past week, I routinely left her alone during the night, to hunt, to gather wood, and so forth, but always I returned well before dawn. Tonight would be different; tonight I would race with the rising sun to be back in the safe confines of the cabin before its light touched my marble skin.

'_Man doth not live by bread only, but by every word that proceeds out of the mouth of the LORD doth man live.__' _My father's scolding voice preached earlier as I was preparing the trout for Little Deer's dinner. Of course I knew exactly what he meant; the words were not intended to be in the least bit figurative. While I ignored the intended connotation of the quote, I still took the words to heart. Little Deer couldn't survive indefinitely on roasted trout.

In fact, if we were going to spend the winter out here, not only would she need a more varied diet, but there were other supplies she would require. The weather was turning colder and snow now shrouded the ground. Humans, as a species, were not very efficient at maintaining their body temperatures in cold weather. Presently my charge was clad in only a in a man's oversized cotton shirt. She needed warm clothing and winter boots as well as a coat to keep from freezing to death. I had an entire mental check list of other things I should like to acquire for her. Some of them, like a stout and healthy horse, could wait until spring when we could travel again. Other things, like the aforementioned warm clothing were immediate needs.

I set the canteen on the bed beside her and smiled. "Little Deer, I'm going on a short journey tonight, and I will likely be gone all night, but I will be back by dawn."

Her brow knotted and I could read the fear behind her eyes. She shook her head and soundlessly begged me not to leave. Of course I understood why, reading human body language and unspoken emotions was a part of my predatory nature. In my work as a doctor this ability had often proven very useful. Her apprehension was clearly written in her expression, she was scared I would go away and wouldn't come back.

"I'm not abandoning you, child," I spoke in the most soothing of tones. "I cannot. You see, the Creator has seen fit to put you under my protection. Have you any idea how auspicious it is to be under the protection of a Sky Being?"

I watched as her apprehension evaporated at my words, the negative emotion quickly replaced by wonderment. She shook her head and I couldn't help but chuckle.

"Well, let's just say that it doesn't happen very often." I dismissed.

This wasn't a lie, to my knowledge no vampire had ever sought to protect and nurture a human before. My endeavors as a physician came closest to 'looking after' humans. Aro would think me a fool for the course of action I was embarking on. In fact my good friend would probably kill the both of us, Little Deer for what she had witnessed, and me for being a reckless idiot. These sobering thoughts notwithstanding, I remained determined to take on full guardianship of Little Deer.

"Go to sleep now," I instructed gently, "And by morning, I'll be back."

I watched her as she reluctantly closed her eyes. Soon she was sound asleep.

*****

I raced through the night at a blinding speed; the snow barely had time to crunch under my feet as I went. I was headed south- southwest back toward the only place of human habitation I knew to exist in the area. At my current speed, I would reach Little Deer's tribe shortly before midnight. It was the only place for many days travel where I could acquire the supplies Little Deer so desperately needed.

Since awakening to this life I had learned that, while honesty might be the best policy, it wasn't always feasible. The first time I stooped to picking pockets on the streets of London, I felt like the lowest form of filth. _'Thou shall not steal,'_ my father's angry voice had boomed inside my head that day. _'Are you incapable of keeping even the simplest of the Commandments, demon?' _

In the years and decades that followed, I did my fare share of pilfering. I tried to keep this to a minimum, and target only the wealthy who could afford to lose a coin or two. In stealing what I needed for Little Deer, I would have to be very judicious, making sure I took sparingly and from many so as to spread the losses over a wide section of the tribe. In this way, no one would suffer too greatly.

When I arrived at the edge of the camp, I slowed to human speed and quickly took stock of my surroundings. With great care I began to pick my way through the camp, stopping here or there to take what I needed. Soon I had a large bundle of thing; it didn't take long to acquire the supplies necessary to meet Little Deer's immediate needs. I was about to add a parcel of ground corn flour to my haul when an out of place scent filled my nose.

As a group, the Natives had had a very distinct scent. It was spicy and woodsy with undertones of tobacco, sage, and juniper. Overall, it was one of the purest scents I'd ever encountered. The odor that now tickled my nose was different, alien to every other smell in the camp. It was the same sickening scent that clung to poor Little Deer when I first meet her. It could only belong to one person . . . Henry Savoy.

Anger well up within me, rising like bile until I could taste it, and my vision suddenly became tinted in hues of crimson. Blood lust clawed at my rational mind seeking to rip asunder two centuries worth of discipline and control all in the name of vengeance. I found myself unconsciously following the invisible trail of Henry Savoy's personal scent. I was on the verge or releasing the beast within me, on the verge of committing my first murder, and while I should have been appalled by my actions, I was complacent instead. I was an unstoppable force; tonight Henry Savoy would reap a hundred fold the misery he had sown.

'_Show no pity: Life for life, eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot.'_ My inner voice growled in my father's anger filled tone. _'Listen to me demon, thought you are a creature most foul, the sickening spawn of hell itself, tonight you will be the instrument of Heaven's divine wrath. Allow the veneer that belies what you truly are to fall away, release the wild and wicked thing that lurks within you, and cleans this new Eden of Henry Savoy's evil taint.'_

I was standing outside the lodge, my prey lay sleeping within. I could hear the steady thrum of his heart; it called to me with the warm wet promises of complete satisfaction. I licked my lips as I moved towards the hanging deer skin that served as a door. Venom pooled in my mouth in anticipation of the coming feast.

I touched the hide to pull it back, my fingers brushing lightly against the soft hairs that still clung to its surface. As I did, the glowing image of her face filled my imagination. Her warm innocent smile and trust filled jade eyes leapt out at me hauling me back from the brink. Little Deer, how could I face her if I let the monster within me have its way, how could I look into those wide green eyes knowing that mine were the color of spilled blood. How could I kill, even this foul man, and go back to my innocent companion and live as though nothing happened.

I stood there, staring into the darkened lodge and listening to Henry sleep. If I committed this act, it would change everything. My life would be hypocrisy, the standers of morality and the years of disciplined denial of my base desires all for naught. I would be a killer, an abomination . . . I would be the monster that I saw in myself the day I awoke and found myself changed.

I let out a relieved sigh and, in answer to my father's angry charge, I whispered, "_He_ will repay them for their sins and destroy them for their wickedness: the Lord our God will destroy them."

Then I turned and took up the bundle of goods for Little Deer and ghosted off into the night.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________

**Footnote**: I know, there are a lot of bible quotes in this chapter, but Carlisle's father was a minister after all, and by what I can gather from SM's writing he was a firebrand minster at that.

Because Blue is a responsible writer, here are my citations:

***

'_Man doth not live by bread only, but by every word that proceeds out of the mouth of the LORD doth man live.__'_

_Deuteronomy 8:3_

_*_

_'Thou shall not steal,'_

_Exodus 20:15_

_*_

'_Show no pity: Life for life, eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot.'_

_Deuteronomy 19:21_

_*_

"He will repay them for their sins and destroy them for their wickedness: the _Lord_ our God will destroy them."

_Psalms 94:23_


	5. Chapter 5

**_A little earlier than the end of the week, enjoy!!_**

**Note:** I do not own or have rights to Twilight or it's characters

Chapter 5

**Red Eyes at Dawn**

The sky was starting to turn a pale dusky gray, like the feathers of the Mourning Doves that I startled as I ran. I hadn't expected to encounter Henry at the village, but in retrospect I suppose I should have. I still found it shocking, how close I'd come to killing a man. More shocking still was the fact that it wouldn't have been some tragic mistake made while hunting, had I followed through on my intentions, I would have committed premeditated murder. Mistakes were to be expected considering the nature of what I am, and while they were regrettable they were also excusable. Cold blooded murder on the other hand was an egregious sin.

'_Cursed is the man who withholds justice from the alien, the fatherless or the widow,'_ my father's voice grumbled harshly. _'You should have cut the head from the viper while you had the chance. Instead you let him slither away, let us hope he does not return later to strike at your heel.'_

Was it possible for vampires to lose their sanity, I wondered briefly, before rebuking the angry voice within me? "Do not say, _'I will pay you back for this wrong!'_ Wait for the Lord and he will deliver you."

Before my father's voice could fire another scriptural cannon ball at me, I focused all my thoughts on the path before me and doubled my speed. Still, deep in the distant recesses of my mind, I couldn't help but wonder if he might be right. Would I one day regret spearing the life of the monstrous Henry Savoy.

As I broke from the trees, I could make out the little stand of shrubs and bramble on the far horizon that camouflaged our cabin. I had chosen to leave our sanctuary cloaked beneath its thicket of overgrown scrub brush. Concealed as it was, our home looked less like a cabin and more like the nest of a gigantic bowerbird. The only signs that gave it away were the thin wispy tendril of blue white smoke that rose lazily from the chimney.

Home sweet home, I mused with a smile as I continued to run. I'd had that thought in a dryer sense before about other places where I resided, but this time I truly meant it. I was glad to be home, not because the shelter of it allowed me to escape the coming day and exposure, but because I had a reason to look forward to being here.

Instantly, Little Deer's smiling face danced before my mind's eye, making me feel like the older brother coming back from a long holiday abroad with present for my baby sister. I couldn't wait to show her all the things I'd brought back for her. There was a new doeskin dress and a pair of women's leggings, boots and a cloak, a pair of fur trimmed mittens, and of course a whole cache of food stuffs . . . even a comb and ribbons for her hair.

The master piece of my magpie's hoard was the single bottle of laudanum that I managed to procure from the belongings of one of Savoy's men. It was the only bottle the pestilent human had and it was most likely for his personal use, but now it was for _my_ patient. Now I could properly address Little Deer's pain.

'_You're entirely too pleased with yourself, demon.'_ My father's voice remarked as I reached the front of the cabin. _'What have I told you about stealing? I assure you, those deeds done in the dark always come out . . . in the light."_

For some odd reason I laughed at my father's humorless chastisement. "All things work together for the good of them that love God," I snapped back, "Even stealing, if _His _divine porous calls for it. Now retreat back into your cloister phantom, and leave me in peace." The voice snarled once and then departed.

I pushed open the door and stepped over the threshold. The interior of the cabin was quiet, and yet this house was more alive than any other home I'd ever lived in.

"Little Deer," I called softly. I was excited and couldn't wait to see the look in her eyes when I showed her what I had brought. "Wake up my child, I have presents for you."

I put my load down on the rough hued table and turned towards her bed, expecting to see her smiling face. What I saw instead chilled me to the core, my mind went numb briefly, and I wasn't sure what to think. If I had blood in my body, in that moment, it would have run as ice water in my veins. The covers on the bed were thrown back and the place where Little Deer lay was empty.

I took a deep breath, analyzing the aromas that swirled in the air. I could still smell her personal scent; it was strong and permeated the room. This meant she was still close by so I pressed my predatory hearing into service. The heartbeat the thumped in my ears was faint and growing fainter. I stepped back outside and followed my ears and nose. I rounded the corner of the cabin on the sunrise side . . . three strides from the corner, Little Deer lay sprawled in the snow.

"Dear God," I whispered and leapt to her side. I scooped her up and rushed her back inside.

She was cold, her skin was nearly the same temperature as mine, and her cotton shirt was wet from where she had been laying in the snow. There was no way of knowing how long she'd been there. I put her down on the bed, shucked off her wet shirt, and quickly replaced it with a dry one before tucking her snuggly under my wool blanket and the buffalo robe. Instantly I went to the hearth, stirred the coals, and set a log on the glowing embers. Soon flames were licking at the dry wood, but it would take time for the ambient temperature in the cabin to rise.

I watched as her body writhed under the covers. She was trembling so hard I thought she might fall out of the small bed. I needed to get warm liquids into her. This would help raise her core temperature from the inside, but I had no tea or coffee. _But you_ _do have rum,_ I thought as I set a pot of water over the fire. When the water was ready, I mixed a conservative amount of the potent rum, with the hot water and some honey I had stolen that very evening, and then I coxed Little Deer to drink it. While I didn't generally promote the consumption of strong spirits, in this case, the toddy was strictly medicinal.

As her body warmed, she stopped shaking and she soon drifted off to sleep. Why had she been outside, and for that matter, why had she even been out of bed?

*****

I didn't wake Little Deer until I finished making her breakfast. There was trout, of course, but now I also added gruel made from ground corn to her diet. Once again the insecurities I felt about my culinary skills reared their ugly heads. In spite of the fact that she never complained, I was sure my companion could to do a better job preparing her own meals. Until my association with Little Deer, nearlyt a hundred and fifty years had passed since I last prepared human food.

I settled beside her bed with a bowl and plate before gently calling her name. She opened her eye reluctantly, squinting against the daylight that streamed in through the window. I could tell by her expression that she wasn't feeling well. The down side to the human consumption of alcohol was that it tended to have unpleasant side effects.

"Eat and you'll feel better," I whispered. She didn't argue and finished off most of what I offered her.

As she took the last of her gruel, I considered how best to broach the subject I'd been pondering while she slept. Mainly, what was she doing outside in the snow? In her defense, I could think of a couple of innocent reasons, after all the human body couldn't go indefinitely without relief of the excretory system. I hoped this was the case and that Little Deer wasn't sprawled in the snow because she was trying to set out looking me.

I took a deep breath as I dipped the last spoon full of corn mush and offered it to her. "Little Deer," I began as she accepted the spoon. "What were you doing outside?"

I tried to keep the tone of my voice even and calm, almost a coo. In my experience, humans responded more positively to a soothing coo that to a harsher, accusatory, tone. The gentler I made my voice sound, the more willing they were to be forthcoming with otherwise embarrassing information.

Medicine might be a science in the minds of some, but there was a considerable amount of art to it as well. While most of the physicians I knew wouldn't admit it publically, the art of manipulation often played a pivotal role in patient care. Thought I loathed the craft, like most vampires, I was a master manipulator.

I watched her turn her head away and begin to tremble again. Perhaps my tone wasn't as soothing as I thought. I decided to try again.

"I'm not angry child," I offered, perhaps qualifying my emotions first might help her. "It's just that . . . well, finding you missing from your bed and nearly froze to death in the snow gave me quite a fright. And believe me, frightening one of the Sky People is no easy task."

My words had the desired effect; Little Deer turned her face back toward me and looked up to meet my gaze. She stared at me for the span of several heartbeats, and then she mouthed a single phrase.

"_Red eyes,"_ as her lips formed the words, fear inundated her features.

For the second time that morning my mind went briefly numb. Surly her words couldn't mean what I thought they did. How could I have missed the signs that singled the presence of another, how could I have missed the tell tale scent of one of my own kind? Had I been that distracted, that caught up in my involvement with Little Deer that I had failed to notice danger at our very door step?

"What do you mean?" I asked when I could form word again.

"_I saw a man . . . with red eyes."_ Her lower lip trembled as she answered. Then she pointed to the window on the far side of the cabin, opposite her bed. _"He was looking through the glass at me, and I heard the sound of his voice . . . in here."_ She pointed to her skull.

There was no mistake about it now; Little Deer had seen one of my brethren, another vampire. As if the specter of Savoy wasn't enough for me to worry about, now I had an unknown vampire in the neighborhood. I was going to have to take some extra precautions.

"What exactly did he look like, child?" Maybe the individual was someone I knew. If so, I might be able to convince him leave Little Deer alone and cut our home a wide berth when wandering through this area.

"_Tall,"_ she began, _"But not as tall as you."_ She paused to think for a moment before pointing to a rust covered horseshoe nailed over the front door, _"With hair that color, and a body like a bear."_

Tall, with a robust build and rusty red hair I thought, defiantly not someone I knew. Of course, there was no way for _her_ to tell how old he was, that would require knowledge and experience. All vampires who followed the traditional ways had red eyes, but those of newborns were brighter scarlet. With time, the eyes of older individuals tended to darken to a rich burgundy. My friend Aro, who was around three thousand years old, had deep maroon eyes that, at times, appeared almost black.

Because of my exclusive diet of animal blood, my own eyes were the color of honey . . . _Panther Eyes_. My experience had been the opposite of the norm, like every newborn I began my existence with scarlet eyes, but as I continued my way of life, they first turned dark amber brown and then over time lightened to honey-gold.

I felt a gentle tug at my sleeve that pulled me back to the present. Little Deer was staring at me. She looked worried and hundreds of unasked questions danced across her face. I smiled in an effort to put her at ease.

"But, why did you go outside, child?" I asked, continuing my gentle interrogation.

"_He called to me and said I should come out and meet him,"_ she answered honestly. _"He looked like you . . . like one of the Sky People, so I guessed he was here to help me too."_

_Oh dear, this is going to be difficult_, I thought as I considered how to warn her about the dangers of vampires without revealing the whole truth to her. I never gave this eventuality a moment's consideration when I walked willingly into the role of _Panther Eyes of the Sky People_.

My mind raced nimbly through the mythologies of a hundred lost civilizations. I studied all of them in the great libraries I had visited during my travels through Europe. Universally, I found one uniting thread, the powers of light vs. the powers of darkness, good fighting against evil. This battle even raged in the realms of the divine.

"Little Deer," I began quietly in a tone I hoped sounded loving and paternal. "Just as there are people in this world who will help you, there are also those who will do you great harm. This fact is also true with the Sky People . . . not all of us are benevolent." I reached out to tuck a strand of her hair back behind her ear as I spoke. "You have an innocent and trusting nature, child. For your benefit however, you must learn to be very careful to whom you bestow the gift of your trust. As a general rule, red eyed Sky People are to be avoided, they will hurt you. Unless I tell you otherwise, don't trust the Red-Eyed Ones. Do you understand?"

"_Yes, Panther Eyes,"_ She mouthed as she nodded.

*****

When night fell and Little Deer was soundly sleeping, I slipped into the darkness to hunt. In order to make the long journey to Little Deer's village and back in a single night I gave up the opportunity to meet my needs. While I wasn't feeling especially thirsty at the moment, I didn't like to take chances considering who, or rather what, my companion was.

I took a deep breath, filling my lungs to capacity with the cold night air. A multitude of smells danced under my nose. As I wasn't too far from the cabin, Little Deer's inviting aroma accosted me first. Her common human scent veiled the more delicate perfume of honeysuckles, a smell I'd come to know as her personal scent. It filled the air of our cramped cabin and made me think of sultry summer evenings. I smiled even as I released the scent from my focus.

I inhaled deeply again, filtering through the cornucopia of smell as I searched for something suitable to hunt. I was in the mood for predatory game tonight. Grizzly at this time of the year would be unlikely; with the turn in the weather they would be snug in their dens by now. Cougar or bobcat might be feasible as would wolf, but I wasn't particularly fond of the latter. Wolf tasted entirely too much like dog for my liking.

Two scents struck me simultaneously; the first was that of a bull elk not more than three miles away. The second scent was closer and far more disturbing. I growled faintly as the familiar smell that denoted one of my own kind filled my nose. I was down wind of him and I could tell he was moving toward the cabin. Without a moment's hesitation, and being sure to keep myself downwind of my advisory, I made my way back toward the cabin. I promised her my protection and I was a man of my word.

I moved quickly and soundlessly until I was in position. It was obvious to me as I stood several yards behind the tall red haired vampire, that this individual was young and inexperienced. My own scent clung to this place just as strongly as Little Deer's and yet he was willing to risk encountering me to come here. Yes, either he was very young, very thirsty, or both . . . in any case, this scenario spelled danger and I would have to keep my wits about me.

"Can I help you?" I asked quietly.

Suddenly the red haired male whirled around to face me and I knew by his expression that I had startled him. He hissed at me and jumped backwards several feet, bracing himself against the trunk of a gnarled pine tree. By his eyes, I could confirm his youth. They weren't the bright scarlet of a newborn but neither had they deepened to burgundy. His vermillion eyes told me he was likely less than a decade old.

"Who the hell are you?" He answered my question with one of his own. An Irishman, I thought when I heard him speak, or perhaps a Scott.

"I could ask you the same question young one." While I remained cordial, I emphasized the term young one, as I wanted him to realize that I was his senior.

It took him a few moments to gather himself before he answered. "The name is Iann O'Connor . . . and you are?"

"Carlisle Cullen," I provided in answer and then added again, "Can I help you?"

He took a breath, sniffing the air like an animal. I found myself shaking my head disapprovingly; he should have learned to do that more discreetly by now.

"You're the one I smelled earlier, at the cabin with the girl." He muttered. "Your scent is all over that place. Do you always toy with your food, or are you saving her for a rainy day?"

"Neither." I answered, allowing the faintest growl to accompany the word. I took a step closer allowing an errant shaft of moonlight to fall across my face, highlighting my golden eyes. "The girl isn't my dinner, she's my ward . . . meaning, she's under my protection and therefore off limits to _you_."

Iann's gaze locked with mine and he remained silent as he studied me. I hoped he could read the seriousness etched on my face, this was not a game. While I would prefer not to fight the youngster and I certainly didn't wish to kill him, I would do both if he pushed me to it.

"You're the one they all whisper about." He finally mumbled when he had his senses again. "The golden eyed vampire with the strange diet who goes about helping humans. I thought it was a myth when I first heard the story, but here you are, bold as brass, right in front of me. Is it true that you're actually a doctor and a surgeon at that?"

As it turned out, Iann was younger than I thought . . . he had been 22 in human years when a female named Cecilia turned him. That was four years ago. His creator was seeking companionship in changing the youth, but Iann found it impossible to stay with her. Their personalities clashed, often violently, especially when it came to Cecilia's odd preference in prey. It seemed she had an appetite for very young boys . . . children really, and Iann couldn't stomach it. After a year, he left his creator to strike out on his own.

During the course of our conversation, he asked me about Little Deer. It seemed his initial concern was that I might be like his creator in my tastes and that I meant this child harm. Once he realized who I was, his impression changed, but he was still curious about her. While I kept certain key details about our initial meeting to myself, I did tell him about her tragic plight. He could barely contain his anger when I told him about the Savoy brothers.

The young man agreed to steer clear of our cabin, and my temporary territory. As he often passed through this area he offered to be a scout of sorts and leave me any interesting news. There was a small outcropping of boulders about a mile north of the cabin; this would be his drop point for messages. When we finally parted company, I wished him well.

__________________________________________

**Footnote:** More citations, sorry:

'_Cursed is the man, who withholds justice from the alien, the fatherless or the widow,'_ (Deuteronomy 27:19)

*

"Do not say, 'I will pay you back for this wrong!' Wait for the Lord and he will deliver you." (Proverbs 20:22)

*

"All things work together for the good of them that love God," (Romans 8:28)


	6. Chapter 6

**Note:** I do not own or have rights to Twilight or its characters!!!

Chapter 6

**Education**

The snows continued to come on and off with surprising regularity. Soon the land around our home was covered in drifts that came well above my knees. At night the cold wind howled through the meadow making whirring noises as it whistled through the brush that surrounded our house. Safe inside the squat cabin, however, Little Deer and I were cozy and warm.

It wasn't long before my companion's injuries healed enough for her to be ambulatory again. Her liberty brought with it a new sense of frustration, she was restless and board. While I continued to provide fresh meat for her, I took to letting her prepare her own meals in order to give her something to do. When she asked for a pair of deer hides, an awl, and sinew for sewing I eagerly pilfered these items along with some glass beads, thread, and steel needles from Savoy's trade goods.

During her recuperation I finally put to rest the question of what I would do with her. In the spring, when it was safe to travel once again, I would take her eastward with me. We would venture to the very fringes of civilization; close enough for me to find work as a doctor and far enough away for Little Deer to be comfortable.

There I would purchase some land and build us a modest house. I would stay in the area for a time, practicing medicine, and establishing myself in the minds of the locals as her relative. Though we looked nothing alike, I was determined to pass myself off as her older brother. This was how I naturally saw myself in relation to her anyway and I couldn't bring myself to be anything less.

Eventually, my eternal youth would necessitate my leaving, but by then I hoped Little Deer would be settled in. I would visit her as often as my work would allow me to, and she would never want for anything as I was determined to fully support her all the days of her life. It wasn't a perfect plan by any means, but it was workable.

Of course, I hadn't told her any of this.

To those ends, I began the slow gentle process of preparing Little Deer for her new life. I didn't want this to be a shock for her, but rather I wanted it to be a smooth transition from one world into another. I continued teaching her English in my nonchalant, almost bumbling way, throwing in words and phrases here and there while we talked. To my great relief, my method worked and within a month she was using Sioux and English words interchangeable.

Now I was ready to progress to the next phase. While teaching her to speak English was a rather organic process, what I had in mind now would require a more deliberate approach. Today was the day I would broach a major topic in her education and I was more than a little nervous. I decided to wait until after dinner when we usually relaxed by the fire.

As Little Deer took up her sewing, I retrieved a book from my pack. I always carried several books when I traveled to help pass the long lonely hours of the day. While I could easily read any text at vampire speed, thus devouring it in no time at all, I preferred to read at human speed so as to savor each and every word.

I cracked open the text and settled myself on the floor in front of the hearth. Of all the ironic titles that I could have brought with me on my journey, I had managed the most ironic of them all . . . Daniel Defoe's _The Life and Strange Surprising Adventures of_ _Robinson Crusoe_.

I focused my attention on the pages before me, but I wasn't actually reading them. This was a ploy, intended to bait Little Deer's curiosity. If my plan worked, tonight I would begin teaching my companion to read . . . and eventually, to write. My efforts were soon rewarded. Little Deer patted her leg with her palm and cleared her throat, an indication she wanted my attention. I looked up from my book and smiled warmly at her.

"Is everything alright, child?" I asked sheepishly. "Are you cold, shall I get your shawl for you?"

She shook her head and pointed to the book in my lap. _"What is that?"_ She mouthed in English.

She had taken the bait; now all I had to do was set the hook and haul her in.

"This," I held up the volume and tried to look as innocent as possible. She nodded in answer and I smiled "It's a _book_, my child, have you never seen one before?"

Her eyes were wide with wonder as she shook her head again. Her expression made me chuckle, I couldn't help it. I patted the floor beside me, inviting her to come and sit next to me. She put down her sewing and cautiously crept over to take her seat.

"For heaves sake, it's not a serpent, it won't bite you," I assured her. I found watching her stalk the unwary novel that lay open in my lap in the same manor that I might stalk a deer highly amusing. I did my best to refrain from laughing at her this time.

She cuddled up close beside me and took hold of my elbow with her two small hands. Then she peered past my arm at the pages making sure to keep some part of me between her and the book. She behaved as though she thought the strange cryptic words might launch themselves off the paper and seize her by the throat. When she looked up at me her forehead was crinkled in such a way that her eyebrows knotted together in a single dark line.

"_Magic,"_ she mouthed in Sioux, _"Shaman's signs."_

"Not magic, Little Deer," I replied gently as I looked into her eyes, "Knowledge. Would you like me to teach you what all this means?" I asked, gesturing with the book so she would know what I meant, "Would you like me to teach you . . . to read?"

"_I could never learn all that."_ She pointed at the pages. _"I'm not cleaver enough."_

"Nonsense, you're very cleaver, and I'll prove it to you." As I told her this, I took a stick from the kindling pile and set the end of it in the fire. When I judged it had charred sufficiently, I withdrew it from the flames, extinguished the end of it and used it to mark the letter 'A' on the stone hearth skirt.

"You see, there is a secret trick to learning to read," I whispered. Humans, by nature, couldn't resist knowing secret things; it was a compulsion for them. "It has to do with understanding symbols and what they stand for."

Little Deer scowled as she pointed at the 'A', _"That is a symbol, it doesn't look_ _like any symbol I have ever seen?"_ then she frowned. _"I told you I wasn't very cleaver."_

If only she knew just how wrong she was. "Is that so? Well maybe you will recognize this symbol," I drew three wavy lines one on top of the other. "What do you think that one means?"

I watched a broad grin spread across her face. _"Everybody know that one, it means water."_

"Quite right, that's very good," I encouraged her, "Now how about this one?" I drew a circle with lines for rays of light, coming off all around it.

Her grin became a giggle. _"The sun,"_ she answered triumphantly.

Wordlessly I drew a crescent shape which she instantly identified as the moon. Then I added a stick figure that she recognized as a man. I could have gone on all night drawing glyphs for her, but it was time to make my point.

"Do you know what you just demonstrated for me Little Deer?" I asked quietly. She shook her head. "Well then, I'll tell you. You have just shown me that not only are you _very _cleaver, but that you also know how to read."

She shook her head vehemently, _"I don't know what that is,"_ she insisted pointing to the 'A', _"And there it is again in your . . . b o o k."_

While she didn't know it, making the association between the letter that I scrawled in charcoal on the hearth skirt and the letter as it appeared in print was a huge leap.

"You don't know what that symbol means," I pointed to the 'A', "Because I haven't told you yet. It is the letter A."

Her face twisted in confusion as she stared at the letter, then she turned her questioning gaze back to me. She wasn't getting my meaning, and I instantly knew why. Explaining it would be complex, but I was confident she could grasp it.

"Not all symbols stand for things we can see and touch, Little Deer." I explained gently. "Unlike this," I tapped the drawing of the man with the end of my stick. "The 'A' represents a sound, not a thing."

The look she gave me was doubtful, but she nodded anyway.

*****

I raced through the snow shrouded forest following the scent of a large buck. I decided to hunt close to the house tonight, my companion and I stayed up much later than I intended. I didn't wish dawn's lovely caress to catch me before I could return to the cabin.

By the time I tucked her into bed for the night, Little Deer had learned the first seven letters of the alphabet as well as a few short words using those letters. Needless to say, I was very pleased. Before packing her off to bed I had her sit close to me while I read a portion of the first chapter of Robinson Crusoe to her. I traced my finger under each word so that she could follow along. My own father never took time to read to me. In the few faint recollections I had of my governess, I remembered her using the same technique to help me learn. Those were some of my happier memories.

To teach Little Deer to read would take time and effort, but we had a whole snow bound winter ahead of us. I was in no particular hurry. Aside from a few menial chores, there was little else to fill the endless hours.

In fact, her initial performance at her lessons sparked a level of enthusiasm in me that I hadn't known since I began my own study of medicine. Little Deer was indeed very bright, and there was no reason she couldn't learn more. There was so much I could teach her. Once she mastered reading and writing, there was history, literature, philosophy, science, and mathematics. A whole world of knowledge awaited her; I could give the girl an education that would put graduates of Oxford and Yael to shame.

"_Teaching the puppy to do tricks are we, demon?"_ My father's voice sneered crudely in my head. _"It won't change what she is, nor will it change how society sees her. You can put clothes on a dog and it's still a dog . . . you can teach the heathen to read, but at the end of the day she'll still be a heathen. You're not doing her any favors." _

Social tolerance was never one of my father's strong points. Class, gender, ethnicity and, of course, religious persuasion were the four marks by which he judged everyone. Why then was I surprised that he took such exception to my companion. In spite of this, it raked at me; I rejected my father's way of viewing the world a long time ago. While he sought perfection in the grand social order, I realized that perfection was both unattainable and unnatural. I soon found that the true beauty of Creation lay in the thing my father labeled as its imperfections; its greatest strength was its diversity.

"Enough!" I shouted as a came to a stop in the middle of the empty forest. My words echoed off the trees, filling the moonless night. "You were a sorry excuse for a father in life and you're an even sorrier excuse for one in death.

"You treated me as a loathsome disgusting creature from the very moment I drew my first breath. Even as an infant I was a disappointment to you. I was an inconvenience, a tax upon your precious time, a burden who's ungrateful mother didn't even have the decency to live long enough to see me raised properly."

The words poured from me with abandon as I pointed an accusatory finger at the star studded heavens. Never before had I allowed myself the luxury of saying these words aloud. Out of a sick sense of respect for the man who called himself my father as well as my own innate desire to maintain my self control I kept this ugly poison bottled within me. Tonight, the festering boil ruptured and I couldn't help myself.

"How dare you spew your venomous words at this girl, she has more courage and strength of character in a single strand of her hair than you had in your entire wrenched body."

"_How droll, the pathetic beast is in love_." Sickening delight oozed through my father's voice. If I were capable of vomiting I would have. _"Or is it lust, it's difficult to tell with demons. In either case, it is an abomination in the sight of Heaven."_

Rage filled me, what could my father possibly know of love. As far as I could tell, he never loved anybody. He never spoke well of my mother nor did he ever show affection for her memory. _I_ was an utter disappointment. He was astringed from his only sister because she married below her station, for . . . of all things, love. His parents died long before I was born, but he never talked about them. Sometimes I wondered if he truly _loved_ the god he professed to serve. Did he actually know how to love, even in an abstract sense?

"Yes," I admitted with a sigh. "I love Little Deer, but not in the lewd and licentious way you suggest. She is a baby sister to me, the cherished sibling I never had in my old life.

"And who are you to criticize me anyway? You who had, within your heedless grasp, everything to make a man happy . . . everything that _I_ have ever wanted but am eternally denied, a child, a wife, a family. You possessed these things and yet you didn't appreciate them . . . in fact you loathed them."

It was true, the only times I ever witness the glimmer of happiness in his cold gray eyes was when he was persecuting some poor unfortunate soul whom he thought to be a witch or a devil . . . or a vampire. Did he have any idea just how many innocent people he put to the torch? The men of the Protestant faith speak ill of the Papists for their bloody Inquisition, yet my father held his very own. While it may have been a futile hope, at least the Inquisitors of the Holy Sea gave the accused a trial and the chance to appeal a decision or recant their testimony. My father gave no such quarter, either admit you guilt and burn or deny it and still burn.

"_You are the cursed spawn of hell, a filthy blood drinking demon, and yet you expect God's blessing?"_ He mocked. _"Think what you will of me beast, but I was Heaven's faithful servant and as such I was duly rewarded for that service, my blessing cup filled beyond overflow." _

My ire was at the flash point, I could stomach the filthy voice no longer. "Depart from me specter, and trouble me no more!!"

My words were a beastly growl, filling the cold clear night with the heat of my rage. They reverberated off every rock, tree, and snow drift for miles and continued to ring as an echo in my ears for several minuets after I said them. When the sound of them finally died away I slumped to my knees in the snow. Though I could go on endlessly without every knowing fatigue, suddenly I felt tiered, weighted down by the worries of my mind.

"_Very well demon, I will depart . . . for now, but mark my words,"_ He whispered gravely, sounding more and more distant with each ghostly syllable. _"No good can come of your association with this heathen girl." _


	7. Chapter 7

**Note:** I do not own or have rights to Twilight or its characters!!!

Chapter 7

**Revelations**

The howling blizzard raged outside our cabin, the blowing snow made the world beyond or front door into a deadly shroud of impenetrable white. Even with my inhuman eyesight, navigation through the white out conditions proved difficult. The storm had raged for the past day and a half with no signs of letting up. As we headed into our second night of roaring wind and bitter cold, Little Deer was showing signs of distress.

I knew from past experiences that humans didn't like storms. I'd see firsthand their reactions in the many hospitals I'd worked at over the years. Be it blizzard or thunderstorm, hurricane or nor'easter, patients inevitably became restless and edgy. The longer the bad weather hung on the more pronounced the human's nervous reaction became.

I sighed as I put another log in the hearth, out of the corner of my eye I watched Little Deer pace. I made sure to keep the fire stoked in an effort to keep the cabin and my human companion warm. When the storm first hit, the temperature dropped dramatically in just a matter of hours. Little Deer was forced to don her leggings and boots under her doeskin dress and she wrapped herself tightly in her cloak.

"Child, please relax," I begged for the tenth time that day. "The storm will pass in time, but wearing a hole in the floor boards with your nervous pacing won't facilitate matters."

She turned to face me before answering so that I could read her lips when she spoke. _"I don't like this storm. Could you ask Thunder Man to make it stop?"_

Yes, as one of the supposed Sky People, I was the proud son of Thunder Man. It wasn't the first time since the blizzard began that she had asked me to intercede with my divine patriarch. Little did she know just how often I did pray, my numerous silent petitions went up with regular frequency, and this in spite of being labeled a demon and the cursed spawn of hell in my internal dialogue. Fortunately, I hadn't been troubled further by my father's angry voice since the night I confronted him in the woods.

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, Little Deer needed a distraction. My eye caught on the copy of Robinson Crusoe where it rested on the mantle above the fireplace. I picked up the volume and settled myself on the floor near the fire.

"Come," I invited her softly. "Let us read together, it will help take your mind off the storm."

Little Deer's lessons were coming along quite well, though she got off to a bit of a rugged start. In the first day or two she did astonishingly well, but then she realized that I was _'teaching'_ her, and she became tense and hesitant. At first I couldn't understand why until I had an epiphany, Jack Savoy had been her first 'teacher' and his brutal methods left a lasting impression. With patients and gentle consistency I managed to break through her fear and after a month under my tutelage she was making good progress.

She stopped pacing and stared at me for several seconds before coming to sit beside me. Reading together was not the passive undertaking that it might seem. While I still did most of the reading, I had taken, of late, to giving her some of the shorter, simpler passages. From time to time she would stumble or struggle with an unknown word, but I always helped her. The first few times this happened she cowered beside me like a whipped dog, expecting the same harsh treatment from me that she had received from Savoy. I was appalled and quickly assured her that I would never hurt her . . . for any reason.

Once she was settled, I opened the book and we began. I always read in a very deliberate way to her, as I often found myself having to stop and explain things. Little Deer was as curious as she was intelligent; one such lengthy explanation had to do with what a sailing ship was . . . and subsequently, what was an ocean? In the end, I found myself drawing a picture of a sailing ship for her on a page from my sketch book. Somehow I suspected that she still didn't believe such a craft or such a boundless body of water existed.

The thought of taking her all the way to Boston, out to its massive harbor and showing her a ship like the one I'd crossed the Atlantic on danced briefly through my mind. Why stop there, I thought, I could book passage for the two of us and show her the world. I pushed that thought from my mind, while it might be very entreating for me and highly educational for her, the notion was a bit to ostentatious. I would do well to focus on helping her make her way in the world.

"Here," I whispered as I came to a short section. "You read this part; you should know most of the words. Remember to exhale as you mouth the words so I can hear you." I'd already scanned the short passage and I could only see three words that might cause her difficulty.

Early on I found it necessary to explain to her that I had extremely acute hearing and that, if she 'whispered', I could make out her words. This way, she wouldn't have to look up all the time for me to read her lips. Unfortunately, without a tongue, some words didn't quite sound right.

I felt a small hand tugging at my sleeve, trying to get my attention, she caught me daydreaming again. "Where are you stuck, child?" I asked gently and watched as she pointed to the word that had her stumped. "Civilization," I provided. The sound of the word made her looked up at me, she was scowling in frustration.

I smiled warmly, "Learning is a process that requires time and patients, Little Deer." I'd told her this before, but the extra encouragement always helped. "You're doing an outstanding job; you should be pleased with your progress."

She shook her head and her frustrated scowl deepened; it was then that I realized her irritation ran deeper than the raging storm beyond the walls of our cabin or not understanding a word. I had a sinking suspicion that this was something major, and it needed to be addressed.

"What troubles you?" I asked, being sure to carefully mark our place in the novel with a strand of ribbon as I closed it. This was for her benefit, not mine.

She shook her head and pointed to the book in my lap, an obvious attempt to dismiss my question and change the subject. Little Deer was quite the effective communicator

"No," I told her gently as I set the book on the floor beside me. "We'll get back to our reading in a moment. Something more than simply not knowing a word has you upset . . . I would know what that something is."

For several moments she remained silent, toying with the bottom edge of her dress as she gathered her thoughts. I waited patiently for her reply, rushing her wouldn't help matters.

"_For what reason do I need to learn this?"_ She mouthed, her breath escaping faintly past her lips as she did.

I was stunned and a little hurt as well, "I thought you enjoyed our lessons together, I thought you like learning."

"_I do, and you are a good teacher, Panther Eyes, but if this is the only book in the world . . . then what is the use of knowing to read?"_

"There are many books in the world, Little Deer," I sighed. My mind instantly turned to the vast libraries I'd visited in my travels. Only one book in the world, what a depressing thought.

"_How many, and are they all about Robinson Caruso?"_

How many, I mused, why, enough to fill an ocean, of that I was sure . . . though I wasn't firm on what the exact number of them might be. "Do you remember the forest we passed through on the way back to your village?"

She nodded.

"Well, imagine each and every tree in that forest as a book and you'll start to get an idea of just how many books there are." I watched as wonder lit her face and couldn't help my smile. "And as to their content, no they are not all about the poor unfortunate Mr. Caruso."

Her look of wonder soon slumped back into a frustrated scowl and I knew we hadn't gotten to the crux of the problem just yet. "There's more, what else troubles you?"

"_I still do not understand,"_ She whispered and by her expression I could tell she was trying to make sense of everything. _"I believe you when you say that there are as many books in the world as there are trees in the forest, but only this one is here. Why do I need to know its words . . . if you read it to me, then I would know the story, I could tell it by the campfire to my children and grandchildren, and that would be that?" _

The Sioux, like most Native Peoples, had a very strong oral tradition and no real written language to speak of. Knowing the story in order to hand it down to the next generation was of the upmost importance. In this way, stories never die, and important elements of culture as well as lessons about life are preserved. Her point, given this context, was valid and I had no argument to offer in my defense.

Except one, I thought, the fact that I'm taking her away from this place. I took a deep cleansing breath, it was time to revel a little of my plan to her. Perhaps it would be for the best as it would give her an opportunity to get used to the notion of going away.

"You trust me, don't you, my child?" That was perhaps the most leading question in the whole history of leading questions and I had asked it quite porously.

She nodded_, "Yes, Panther Eyes."_

"Good," I acknowledged her answer. "Then you must also trust that everything I do, everything that I offer to teach you, everything that I insist you learn is for a porous and for your betterment."

Again she nodded.

I paused for a moment as I considered how much of my plans I wished to revel to her. "In the spring," I began, "When conditions are fit for travel again, I intend to begin my journey eastward and I would endeavor to take you with me." I saw protest building in her eyes and then spill out onto her face, but I quickly quieted her, taking her hands in mine and insisting that she hear me out. "I cannot, in good conscious, leave you out here all alone, and it is absolutely imperative that I return to the east.

"Henry Savoy will not soon forget you or the wrong he thinks you've committed against him and I fear he will seek you out at winters end. When he finds you, he will kill you and it will not be an easy or gentle death. I promised you my protection, forever and for always, and I am a man of my word, Little Deer. I can't remain out here in the wilderness beyond the end of winter. I have a calling among the men who live in the east and I would take you with me . . . for your protection. That is why I've been teaching you to speak English and how to read . . . and I had hoped to teach you to write as well, if you're amiable to it."

"_Why east, why not west?"_ she asked, I could read the panic in her voice _"Jack and Henry were from the east."_

I knew exactly where Little Deer's faulty logic was headed and I need to find a way to put it to rest before it went any further. I could understand why she would think this way, given her abusive treatment, but to consider an entire nationality as evil based on the detestable actions a select few was wrong. I needed to go deeper into her memories, further back, to a time before the Savoy brothers.

"Not everyone in the east is like Jack and Henry," I counseled. "The father who sired you and the mother who bore you . . . they were from the east. I imagine they were kind and loving, do you remember them Little Deer? Do you remember your parents?"

I watched regretfully as emotion's broad brush painted a wash of sadness over her features. She was only five at the time Carlisle, I scolded myself, how much did you think she would recall. I sighed and began to retract my words.

"I'm sorry, child, you were very small when you were taken." I whispered as I wrapped my arm around her shoulders in comfort. "Don't feel badly about not remembering anything of your birth family, it's not unusual."

"_I was not taken."_ Her breath escaped in a near silent whisper as her lips worked to form the words. _"Red Pony and his hunting party found me under a basket among the remains of my parent's wagon. They were already dead when he arrived. I would have died too, if he hadn't found and adopted me."_

"My apologies, I was under the impression you were taken in a raid." Why had I assumed this, perhaps deep down I was more like my father that I thought. What a disturbing revelation. "I just thought . . ."

"_You thought Red Pony killed my parents."_ She cut me off as she looked up to meet my gaze. _"He found my parents lying side by side in the dirt, two crumpled and discarded heaps. According to Father, their necks were broken and it looked as though a large animal had attacked them and ripped their throats out."_

"Dear God," I murmured. Her parents were killed by one or more vampires, who simply left the bodies without properly disposing of them and, apparently, left a small child to the mercy of the elements as well.

Leaving children unharmed was not uncommon among those of my kind who lived the traditional life; in fact, most of us had a natural aversion to hunting children. It was a form of self preservation really, killing off the children of your prey species meant you were killing off your future food supply. For this reason, I myself preferred male animals to female ones lest the females be pregnant or caring for young. Only a newborn or a truly desperate individual would have attacked this small family.

"_He had a caterpillar under his nose."_ She whispered thoughtfully. Her response drew me from my morbid thought, but I found myself unable to place what she was saying into any reasonable context. She'd said the words in Sioux, so I assumed I had the translation wrong.

"Excuse me," I felt my face contort into a confused grimace.

"_My Pa, he had a caterpillar under his nose,"_ she supplied again, as she held her index finger under her nose. _"I remember, it was brown and fuzzy, and it wiggled when he talked. I used to watch it when he went to sleep because I thought it might crawl off his face and then I could catch it and play with it."_

I found myself chuckling in spite of not wanting to. "Your father had a mustache," I told her. "And your mother, what do you remember about her?"

"_Her hair was like mine and very long. Every night, after she brushed my hair, I would watch her brushing hers until I fell asleep."_ I watched as she closed her eyes so she could remember more clearly_. "She was always singing she had a voice_ _like a meadow lark."_ She became silent then and very still. Her breathing quickened and I watched a single tear trace a silver trail down her cheek and drip off her chin.

"Tell me," I began as I pulled her a little closer. I hadn't meant to make her cry, but while I was on the subject of her past, I decided that I might as well question her completely. "Do you remember their names . . . do you remember your own name? You were not always called Little Deer, once you had an eastern name."

She was quiet for a long time and I feared she would say nothing more about her distant memories. Finally a single word escaped her lips, _"Nathanial."_

"Your father's name was Nathanial?" I asked just for clarification.

She nodded sadly. _"My mother called him so."_

"And your mother," I pressed. It might be possible, if I knew enough about her parents, to find her eastern relations . . . if she had any.

She went silent again, but this time instead of answering with a whispered name, she began to sob and shake her head. I pulled her fully into my embrace, holding her against me as she cried, and I whispering soft soothing words into her hair.

"There, there, now." I cooed gently, "You were very young Little Deer, and you did well to remember all that you have." I continued to hold her until her sobbing eased, and then I pressed her one last time. I hurt me deeply to do it, given the level of anxiety her reminiscing elicited, but it was necessary. "Do you recall your own name?"

More defining silence followed the question, but thankfully she didn't erupt into a new fit of tears. When she finally broke her silence, I was stunned by what she said. Had I not already been sitting, I think I would have fallen down.

"_Ayala,"_ she mouthed sadly.

Ayala was not an English name, nor was it Gallic, Anglo-Saxon, Germanic, or French though a variant of it was used very rarely in Spain. This name was quite unique and much unexpected, because this name was Hebrew and it meant, oddly enough_, a female deer. _

___________________________________________________________________________________________________

_AN: Hey gang, this will likely be the only post you get from me this week. My hubby and I are going on a cross country road trip and I won't be back until saturday. Sorry, I'll try to post something for Water and The Cullen Bunch next weekend or the first of next week. Thanks your patients, and thanks for all the reviews . . . reviews=love!_


	8. Chapter 8

**Note:** I do not own or have rights to Twilight or its characters!!!

**AN: _Hi gang, I had a great road trip to California. It was a awsome experiance. Now I understand Bella's shock upon arival in Forks( the sea of green she discribes.). As a child of the deep south, trees and green grass abound in my world. In the southwest trees and grass are more rare, but the landscape is still beautiful . . . especially in the mountians._**

**____________________________________________________________________________________________________**

Chapter 8

**Child of Two Worlds**

The endless days of cold and snow took their toll on my companion's mood. She was showing signs of anxiety, fidgeting and pacing like a caged beast. Often she wanted to go outside on the few sunny days that graced our wilderness home. To that end, I fashioned a pair of crude snowshoes for her and on the next clear day, I took her out.

It was completely alien to me, to willingly allow a human to view me in full sunlight, but the sight of my shimmering skin delighted Little Deer to no end. While it wasn't the first time _she_ had seen me this way, she _was_ the first human to gaze upon me in all my radiant splendor. Though the experience came with a measure of anxiety for me, after all, I had spent the better part of over a century and a half hiding what I was; I also found in it a kind of release. To be complexly relaxed and let my guard down in the company of a human, especially this human, was a new experience and one that I found strangely pleasant.

Little Deer enjoyed our excursions immensely. Sometime we would go for short aimless walks, we were never out for more than an hour and we stayed very close to the cabin, being human meant that Little Deer was highly susceptible to the cold. At other times, I would let her accompany me down to the creek to fetch water or out to gather fire wood. Whatever the reason, going out vastly improved her moods.

In fact, so much were they improved, that just this morning she mischievously pelted me in the back of the head with a snowball.

"Oh now you've gone a done it, haven't you?" I growled playfully as I wiped the cold snow from the back of my neck. I turned to face her and found a childish grin spread blatantly across her face, though she tried desperately to hide it behind her mitten hands. "You know," I smirked as I scooped up a hand full of snow and packed it loosely into a ball, "I never miss what I aim at."

I let fly with my snowball and she squealed once before darting behind the nearest tree. My projectile smashed against the edge of the tree, sending a spray of snow to blanket the back of her cloak as she disappeared behind the sheltering trunk. A lengthy yet playful snowball battle ensued, in the end, I surrendered . . . it was the gentlemanly thing to do.

Our outings also made her more receptive to her lessons, a fact that thrilled me because this morning I wanted to begin phase three of her education . . . writing. While she put her cloak and boots by the fireplace to dry, I pulled out a large piece of slate I acquired during my last hunt. After charring several sticks in the fire I sat down on the floor and called her to me.

"I'm going to show you something new today." I couldn't help the excitement in my voice. "We'll begin, I think, with your name. Everyone should know how to write their own name."

"_But I do not know the letters in Little Deer."_ She said her name in Sioux, not English. In truth, I had no idea how to spell Little Deer in her native tongue either.

"I was referring to your given name, _Ayala._" I corrected gently. "It is the name you shall go by in the east."

While I truly loved her Sioux name and I thought it was very beautiful, it was my intention to gradually start using her real name in place of Little Deer in order to get her accustomed to hearing it. I reminded myself that, while it was likely that we would both find this process distressing in the beginning, I was doing this for her benefit. I also intended to have her start addressing me as Carlisle instead of Panther Eyes. I hated doing this and I would have preferred to go on forever as _Little Deer_ and _Panther Eyes_, but it was impractical if she was to live with me in the east.

I watched her frown deeply, she was going to resist this and I couldn't honestly say that I blamed her. She hardly remembered her birth parents or being called Ayala; in her mind Red Pony and Ground Squirrel were her parents and Little Deer was her right and proper name.

"_Why?"_ She challenged stubbornly. "_Jack and Henry said I should be ashamed to be a Sioux, that I should hate Father and Mother for making me into a wild savage. Jack even said it would have been better if the coyotes had eaten me before Red Pony found me . . . he said I would be better off dead that to be a savage._

"_Do you also think I should be ashamed, that I would be better off dead than to be what I am? Is that why you want to change me?"_

"Of course not," I insisted without hesitation.

'_Why do you insist on living in a state of eternal, self-imposed, condemnation,'_ I remembered Aro asking me once concerning my unique lifestyle. _'You have no reason to be ashamed of being a vampire, friend Carlisle; you did not choose this life it was thrust upon you. Yet you persist in an effort to deny your nature. It is one thing to pretend to be human for appearances sake and another thing entirely to delude one's self into believing that the illusion of humanity you weave is, in fact, reality.'_

While I didn't fully agree with Aro's statement, he did make a convincing point, no one, vampire or human, had need of being ashamed of their nature. Little Deer was no exception to this. It was my firm belief that a carefully crafted porous and plan existed for every being under heaven. A grand design know only to the mind of God, and somewhere, somehow, everything and everyone fit into it . . . even me, a blood drinking abomination and especially Little Deer, a child of two worlds.

"Look at me," I insisted quietly and then waited until she gave me her gaze. "Jack and his brother were wrong. You are not a savage and for that matter, neither are your people. You should be very proud of who and what you are because you have every reason to be.

"The measure of a man . . . or woman is not found in where they live, or how they look, or the culture in which they were raised. Rather, it is in the strength of their integrity and the content of their character."

She scowled at me and I could tell she was confused. Little Deer was intelligent, but I managed to go over her head with my lofty explanation. "What I'm trying to say is this; you have nothing to be ashamed of because you've grown into a strong courageous young woman whom your parents would be very proud of."

"_Then why do you wish to change me?"_

I didn't really wish to change her, to do so would be a travesty. What I truly wanted was . . . well . . . to teach her how to be a vampire. No, not in the literal sense of course, as I didn't wished to rob her of her humanity; rather I meant it figuratively because I hoped to show her how to live in two worlds at once, just as I did. I wanted to show her how to maintain her true nature while keeping up an outward appearance.

"I do not wish to change you, my child, I am quite fond of you as you are." I assured her. An image flashed through my head and suddenly I knew exactly how I would explain this in terms she would understand.

"Consider for a moment, our friend the woodland hare." I began in my gentlest teaching tone. "In summer, friend Hare wears a coat of rich brown fur so that he blends in with the leaves, stumps, and undergrowth he hides in. Why do you think that is, child?"

"_So that Bobcat, Wolf, and Owl do not make a meal out of him,"_ She answered. I could tell she was a bit confused by the odd turn in our conversation. Still, I was confident that things would be clear to her shortly.

"Exactly," I encouraged. "Now, what happens to Hare's coat in winter?"

She shrugged, _"It turns white."_

"That's right, his fur turns snowy white," I agreed. "Why?"

"_For the same reason, so that Bobcat, Wolf, and Owl do not make a meal out of him."_

I smiled at her and nodded. "That is absolutely correct. Our friend, Hare, is a creature who can change his outward appearance based on the seasons so that he can hide from his enemies. But notice something, my child, it is only _the color of_ _his fur_ that does the changing, underneath friend Hare is still . . . Hare."

"That is what I propose to teach you," I informed her. "I am not trying to change you, Little Deer, rather, I'm trying to teach you to change the color of your coat, as friend Hare does, so that you may hide and go unnoticed among the men of the east. At the end of the day, however, Ayala will still be Little Deer of The Sioux just as friend Hare will always remains a hare."

I watched her for a time as she digested all I the things I told her. The expression on her face shifted several times as she considered my proposal. Finally she looked up at me and smiled faintly, _"How does Ayala begin?"_

"With the letter 'A'," I answered happily as I drew the letter for her on the slate tablet.

As in all matters in this world, the choices we made meant everything. Yes, vampirism was thrust upon me, it was not a life I wanted nor would I have picked it had it been freely offered to me. I had no control over the events that made me what I am, but I had every control over the way in which I lived this immortal life. This is what I hoped to pass on to Little Deer; while she did not chosen to lose two sets of parents, or live in the wilderness among the Natives, nor be subjected to abuse at the hands of the Savoys, she had every control over how she conducted herself in the face of life's adversities.

*****

I raced along at top speed across the snow covered landscape. My hunt had taken me further afield than usual and, as I now approached our little home, the sun was just showing itself above the eastern horizon. As always, I looked forward to returning to the cabin. By now, Little Deer was likely awake and making breakfast for herself. I smiled at the thought of seeing her.

Later in the morning, after she'd eaten and the sun had a chance to warm things up a bit, I planned to take her out and gather fire wood again. The outing would make her happy and therefore facilitated good progress with her morning lessons. Her writing was coming along quite nicely; she could print her name with proficiency and had learned several other words as well. Since she couldn't recall her own surname, I took the liberty of giving her mine. This would help once we reached the east as I intended to claim her as my younger sister.

We finished Robinson Caruso two nights ago. The only other books I had in my pack were a recently published manual on new surgical techniques which I doubted she would enjoy and, as always, the Bible. All though I had thoroughly memorized the holy text from Genesis 1:1 to Revelations 22:21 I still found myself in the habit of carrying my worn copy where ever I went and I frequently read from its familiar passages. In spite of my youthful indoctrination into my father's harsh interpretation of the Word, I found the voice within the pages filled with warmth, love and comfort; not at all like what my father preached to me as a boy.

As I broke from the woods and drew nearer to the cabin, the inviting aroma of Honeysuckles filled my nose. Little Deer's personal scent clung heavily to our home and I had no complaints about it.

"Ayala," I called softly as I opened the door. Like most humans, she didn't hear my silent predatory approach and she was easily startled if I didn't announce myself. "Ayala," I called again, "Answer me child."

But there was no answer and no Ayala either, the cabin was empty. Panic threatened to swallow me like a tidal wave. Little Deer never went out alone, except for . . . my mind refused to complete the thought even as I took a deep breath. Her scent alone permeated the air with in the small structure.

I stepped back outside, the thickness of her scent indicated that she hadn't long ago left. Being human, she couldn't have gotten very far. Iann's face suddenly flashed before my mind's eye and I couldn't help but wonder if he or his creator were in the area. If she were taken by one of my kind, I mused sadly, she could be miles away by now. Again I sniffed the air, but only Little Deer's scent filled my nose.

I pressed my inhuman hearing into service, listing for the sound of her heartbeat. I detected it almost instantly, but its thrum wasn't singular in my ears. The beating of a second, much larger, heart accompanied hers. By the strength of the sound, I calculated that Little Deer was near the stream where we went to collect water.

I was about to start out after her when another, more chilling sound accosted my hearing . . . it was the scream of a frightened horse. The presence of horses could almost universally be associated with the presence of humans, yet I hadn't heard a second human heartbeat. I was now even more concerned for my companion than before and I took off at a dead run toward the stream.

I was nearly at the stream when the wind changed directions briefly. The shifting air current brought with it the reassuring aroma of Little Deer's sweet honeysuckle scent as well as the musty scent of horse. These I had expected, but the third smell that danced on the cold morning breeze I did not expect . . . the common human scent mingled with tobacco and wood smoke as well as the coppery scent of blood and the pungent putrefied smell of death. The knot of dread that formed in the pit of my stomach when I found the cabin empty suddenly grew to the size of a cannon ball.

I broke from the trees near the edge of the stream and found myself plunged into utter chaos. Little Deer was trying to calm a very frightened grey gelding, I watched in horror as the animal reared up and pawed at the air mere inches from her head. Immediately I noticed the two bullet wounds on the horses left shoulder. They were flesh wounds and therefore they weren't life threatening, but sticky trails of blood oozed from them just the same.

A wounded horse might well be the source of the blood scent. It did not, however, account for the putrid smell of death that hung in the air so thickly that it nearly made me gag nor did it account for the second human scent. I turned to my right and was mortified by the sight that greeted me. Over a century and a half's involvement in medicine meant that I had seen more than my fair share of corps', but I never ceased being stunned and saddened by witnessing the evidence of a violent death.

The corps of a robust man in his late thirties with a scruffy blond beard lay sprawled on the ground under a tree. By his dress, I deduced he was a fur trapper and he showed evidence of having been shot at least four times but only one bullet hit a vital place. Blood saturated the man's grubby buckskin shirt and trailed down one leg of his pants. The poor man likely bled out slowly, finally succumbing to the effects of exsanguination and falling, unconscious, from his mount. He died where he landed.

The horse screamed again and I turned my attention back to Little Deer. She had hold of the animal by the headstall of his bridle and was wrestling desperately for control. She was having some success as the horse appeared calmer than he had when I arrived, but my instincts told me the battle wasn't nearly over.

"Ayala Cullen, have you taken leave of your senses?!" I barked far more sternly than I intended. Fear for her safety made me heedless of my tone as I rarely, if ever, raised my voice to anyone. "Get away from that animal this instant."

Little Deer paid no mind to my command; in fact she completely ignored me. I watched helplessly as she continued work at soothing the frightened gelding. There was little I could do, animals became instinctively edgy in my presence and I feared if I moved closer to assist her, or remove her, the horse would become more combative.

To my amazement her tender yet firm touch and soothing whispers soon had the horse calm. He now stood still, allowing her to stroke the powerful arch of his neck. The only outward signs of his continued distress were head shaking and twitching ears. He was favoring his left foreleg and I guess his anxiety was caused more by the pain of his injuries than anything else.

Little Deer turned to me and the look I saw on her face was all too familiar to me, I had seen it often enough reflected back at me in the mirror.

"_He is hurt,"_ she mouthed, but I had no trouble hearing her soft whisper. _"You said you were a healer, will you not help him?"_

I sighed as I ran my hand through my hair. While I had an adequate knowledge of the anatomy of most large animals, I was not a Veterinarian by training. Then there was the problem of my predatory scent, I doubted very seriously that I could get near the gelding without sending him into another panicked frenzy. There was only one humane course of action, but I had to dismiss Little Deer first. Given her tender nature and her obvious attachment to the poor horse, she likely wouldn't consent to my intentions.

"Why don't you go back to the cabin now, Ayala," I instructed her in the gentlest tone I could muster. "I'll take care of this."

She didn't budge, but instead fixed me with the most intense gaze I'd ever encountered. Not even Aro had stared so intently at me; it was as if she was reading me like a page from one of my books.

"_He is hurt, help him." _It was not a question this time, it was a statement.

"I'm not an animal healer Little Deer," I informed her. "I will end his suffering mercifully, you have my word." It would take only a second to snap his neck and put him out of his misery. I would not feed from the animal as I wasn't fond of the taste of horse blood. And besides, Little Deer obviously felt a strong connection to him, and I didn't consider it proper to eat ones pets. "Now go back to the cabin and let me take care of this."

She shook her head. For the first time I saw the obstinate side of my companion. _"He is a very good horse,"_ she insisted. _"He carried his rider faithfully even though he was also wounded. He did not abandon his rider when the man fell from his back. He has courage and he is loyal . . . he deserves our help._

"_Besides, did you not say that I would need a horse when the spring comes, so that I might travel with you to the east? The Creator always provides for the needs of the People . . . here he has sent me a fine horse."_ She flashed her innocent yet knowing smile_. "You are a powerful healer, Carlisle; you will make him well again, just like you made me well again."_

Without another word to me, she began the slow arduous process of leading the injured horse back towards our cabin. I watched her for a time, admiring the gentle way she handled the animal, cooing and petting him as she coaxed him along. Little Deer was simply amazing, a force of nature and I felt myself privileged to be in her company.

That's when it dawned on me that I, a nearly two century old vampire, had just been soundly trounced in a test of wills by a fifteen year old human. I couldn't help but laugh.

When she and her horse diapered from my sight, I turned to the grim task of burying the body of the unfortunate trapper.

* * *

**Historical Footnote:** I'm adding this for historical clarification.

_Veterinary hospitals and the practice of animal medicine dates back to the ancient times. They were mentioned in the writings of Egypt (1900 BCE) and Greek and Roman records prescribed various treatment of illnesses in animals. Both animal and human hospitals were institutions under the Emperor Ashoka of India (272-231 BCE). ((info courtesy of Wikipedia))_

_As early as the 1600's 'livestock doctors' emerged and they were present in the US colonies. In the 1700's the first veterinary schools were established in Europe (Most notably, The London Veterinary Collage which was founded in 1791 by Monsieur Charles Benoit de St. Bel and later The British Royal Army Veterinary Service was founded in 1796) and the first such US schools were established until much later._

_In the time period I've set this story, physicians were given some formal training in the treatment of animals and sometimes practiced on certain animal species . . . mainly horses. So it is possible the Carlisle, who I assume began his medical training in Europe, might well have been exposed to the foundation of Veterinary Medicine._


	9. Chapter 9

**Note:** I do not own or have rights to Twilight or its characters!!!

Chapter 9

**Sacred Mysteries**

I returned to the cabin after disposing of the fur trapper's body. Before committing his remains to the earth, I took from him what useful items he had, namely his fire starting kit, rifle, pistol, powder, and shooting bag as well as his tomahawk. While I had no use for such things myself, I had no doubt that my companion might have need of them. In fact, while I detested fire arms to no end, I also realized that Little Deer needed some means of self defense. This would be especially true once we began our journey east, as I had no chose but to leave her unattended while I hunted.

As I approached the cabin at a brisk walk, I noticed that Little Deer had her new horse picketed in the scruffy bushes near the house. If she was truly intent on keeping the poor beast, I was going to have to construct a fenced paddock for him as well as some form of shed to shelter him from the elements. When she looked up and saw me coming and caring a rifle, her eyes went wide and her complexion paled. Immediately she put herself between me and the horse.

"Relax, child," I soothed. "I have no intention of shooting your horse. You've made it quite clear that he is a gift of the Creator . . . even the children of Thunder Man fear the Creator's wrath." I put down my load near the small tree where she and had neatly stashed the gelding's saddle and other equipment. "Incidentally, have you considered a name for him?"

She pointed to the sky, at one of the fluffy grey-white clouds drifting lazily across the vast azure expanse_. "I do not know the English."_ she scowled in confusion as she mouthed the phrase.

"Cloud," I provided for her and I was rewarded for my effort with one of her magical smiles.

"_Will you tend his wounds now?"_ she asked.

Cloud's wounded shoulder was facing me, his dapple grey coat was caked in dried blood, two ugly bullet wounds puckered his flesh, and the swelling from the trauma of his injuries was clearly visible. The wound needed cleaning and, if possible, the bullets need to be removed. As much as I wanted to help, for Little Deer's sake, getting near enough to the horse to treat him would likely be impossible.

"Ayala, if I attempt to approach Cloud, he's going to become agitated again. Animals instinctively dislike being in close proximity to Sky Beings." I told her as I ran the fingers of my right hand through my hair; it was one of the human nervous ticks I'd picked up over the years. She didn't say anything, but I could tell by her expression that she didn't believe me.

I shook my head. "Observe," I instructed with a sigh and then I took several deliberate steps toward the horse. Cloud's reaction was immediate, his ears went flat against his head and his eye rolled back in fear as he pranced nervously on the end of his lead rope. He reared up, tugging at his bonds in an attempt to free himself to flee. Finally, in extreme desperation he kicked out with his hide feet to fend me off. When I move away again he slowly settled down.

"You see how he reacted and this in spite of being in pain," I began. "He's not going to let me near him, Ayala."

"_Then how will you tend his wounds and make him well?"_

How indeed, I wondered and then it came to me. "He obviously trusts you, so you are going to tend him," I told her bluntly. "I'm going to tell you what must be done and you will do it . . . you're going to be my hands."

"_I cannot,"_ she insisted. _"I am not a healer."_

"Do you want to help him?" I asked insistently. When she nodded I continued, "Then you must trust me . . . and you must trust yourself."

I watch her consider my proposal for several minutes before she nodded again. "Very good," I was pleased to see her being sensible. I pointed to a set of hobbles that had fallen out of the saddle bags. "Put those on his feet so he doesn't kick you while you work and shorten his lead rope to keep him from throwing his head around. While you do that, I'll get some water and clean rags."

I watched her pick up the hobbles and then look up at me, protest danced like tongues of jade fire in her eyes. She was about to say something stubborn when I waved her silent.

"Please don't argue with me, child." I was careful not to raise my voice above the gentle conversational tone I always used, but I allowed a clear note of warning to resonate through it. The combination was effective, while I still saw protest in her eyes she took the hobbles and returned to Cloud's side. Confident that she would do as I had instructed, I left her and went to gather the supplies she would need.

When I returned with the bucket of water, rags, and a few other things Cloud was hobbled and securely snubbed to the tree he stood under. I nodded my approval but it did nothing to relieve the anxiety written boldly on Little Deer's face.

I sighed loudly as I beckoned her towards me. Horses were and unpredictable lot, even the most sedate among them, when frightened or injured, could become dangerous. I once treated a blacksmith who was kicked in the sternum while shoeing a five year old mare he had hand raised from a foal. She had gotten spooked by a mouse moving in the hay. There was little I could do for him and the man eventually died of his injuries.

_'Your fear has gotten the better of you once again'_; I scolded myself as I recalled the way I'd yelled at Little Deer earlier. When she came to take the water and rags from me I didn't immediately release the bucket to her. She looked up at me and I noted her confusion. I had captured her attention and I intended to make use of it.

"I raised my voice to you down by the stream, and I spoke a bit harshly to you just moments ago . . . I don't want you to get the impression that I'm somehow angry with you, because I'm not." I paused for a moment as I tried to pull the swirling current of thoughts and raw emotions I was experiencing into something that at least bordered on coherent. I couldn't remember ever feeling this strongly about anyone before. "I have lived a very austere and lonely life to date, Ayala. I have some friends among the other Sky People and I have had fleeting contact with humans when I treat them as a healer, but for the most part, I have wander this world in solitude.

"You are the first human I've spent any considerable time with and . . . well; I've grown quite attached to you. I've never had these feelings before and they're very new and very powerful . . . far more powerful than you could possibly imagine," I paused again as I searched her eyes for some hint that she understood what I was trying to say. "What I mean to say is . . . if something were to happen to you, it would cause me a great deal of pain and sorrow and . . . I'm not so sure that I would handle those dark feelings very well."

We were both silent for the span of several of Little Deer's heartbeats. The quiet made me suddenly aware that I hadn't taken a breath or exhaled since I finished my confession. I was relieved when she graced me with another one of her warm smiles, but then it faded and she shyly cast her gaze down towards the ground between us.

"_I would also feel great pain and sadness if something bad happened to you."_ She admitted in her faint breathy whisper. In spite of having her head down, I still noticed the sudden bloom of color in her cheeks and the increase in her heart rate that accompanied it. _"I have no father and no mother, I am without a tribe and a people . . . I am an outcast and an orphan. You, Panther Eyes, are that I have now."_

"Look at me," I insisted gently as I set the bucket of water down. When she looked up I could see the moister glistening in her eyes as her tears threatened. I pulled her into my embrace, "I love you Little Deer and as long as I live, you will never be alone in this world."

I paused briefly and took a deep breath, what I was about to do would change mine and Ayala's lives forever. While this step was a common one among my kind, to my knowledge it had never been done with a human before. If any among my brethren ever found us out, we would both be killed. Still I felt strongly about this, it had rightness to it that I couldn't explain or deny. It would give me the one thing that I craved more than blood and it would provide Little Deer with what she needed most in her life . . . a family.

In a clear commanding voice, I spoke aloud the formal words that would bind her life to mine for all time. "From this day hence let it be known that Little Deer of the Sioux is under my protection. I take her life into my keeping, to be treated as if it were my very own. She is my cherished sister, the beloved sibling of my heart, and I am her loyal brother. We are, from this day and forever, bound together; one in heart and spirit. We are a . . . a family sealed by this oath. So let it be for all time until heaven and earth pass away and the universe is no more"

The sound of my voice made the world around us vibrate with power as it echoed off the every surface in the immediate vicinity. The words hung heavy in the cold morning air and continued to ring for several minutes after they were spoken. Though she was a human, from the moment I uttered the formal words of binding, we were official a coven . . . a family. The bond that now existed between us could only be broken by her death or my destruction.

*****

Under my watchful instruction, Little Deer cleaned and tended Cloud's wounded shoulder. With some effort I ascertained that what I first interpreted as two distinct wounds was actually a single injury. He had been shot only once and the bullet had entered and then exited again. I was thankful for this as I wasn't looking forward to instructing my sister in the gory business of surgically removing bullets.

Later that morning she asked me to take for a walk in the woods. At first I thought this was because she needed to clear her head from the morning's emotion fraught events, but I soon found out differently. She brought a small basket with her and proceeded to collect the roots and dried remains of certain plants.

"What are those for?" I asked curiously.

"_A poultice for Cloud's shoulder, to keep the evil out of the wound_," She answered as she dug through the snow and picked several nondescript pale green shoots.

"I thought you said you weren't a healer." I playfully reminded her of her earlier words.

She looked up from her work, her expression was dangerously serious. _"I am not a healer; I do not know the sacred chants that drive evil spirits away from wounds and help the body heal. I do not know the songs that bind the souls of new babies to their bodies so that they stay with their parents. I do not know the rituals that help the souls of the honored dead find their way home along the spirit road, or those that drive vengeful ghost away. _

"_I am a daughter of the Sioux, and as such, I was taught by my mother to make a poultice to pack in wounds so that I might become a good wife and care for my husband and children."_

"I'm sorry Ayala; I didn't mean that the way it sounded." My apology somehow didn't sound like nearly enough. "I have every respect for you and for your traditions."

When she finished gathering what she needed, we began our walk back to the cabin. Half way there the sound of breaking branches and crunching snow made both of us stop and turn. We were treated to an awe inspiring sight as the most magnificent white stag I had ever encountered stepped gracefully from a thicket some twenty odd paces away. He stood there for several minutes and all the while he seemed to be staring directly at Little Deer with his huge pink eyes. Then just as suddenly as he appeared he disappeared, bounding off into the snowy forest.

When Little Deer turned back to face me, she wore a broad grin on her face. _"Cloud will get well and be strong in time for spring."_ She informed me triumphantly and the she started off at a trot toward the cabin again.

I stood watching her for a few minutes as I tried to work out what just happened. I, of course, had no doubt that the horse would recover from his injury. It was a flesh wound and not at all serious provided I could keep infection out of it. Yet I knew I was missing something very important. I urged myself forward and caught up to her in a few quick strides.

"Would you mind telling me what that was all about?" I inquired.

"_I should not speak of the sacred mysteries, it is forbidden,"_ she began shyly as we walked on. _"But since you are a Sky Being, I suppose it would be alright. _

"_My very first night in the woman's lodge, I was scared because I thought I might die . . . I cried and begged the Creator to make it stop. Sweet Grass laughed at me and told me I was a silly stupid girl, that all women did this, at every moon, but I was still scared. _

"_I lay awake in my bed for a long time, afraid to go to sleep because I thought I would not wake up again. Finally I could not stay awake any longer and I fell asleep. I had a vision/dreamed that night, White Stage came to me and told me he would be my guide and he would look after me . . . 'I will be your guardian and ensure your safety until the Creator can find a suitable 'Keeper' for you. This is because you are not like the rest of the People and you will need much looking after', this is what he said._

"_When Jack took me, I thought he was my 'Keeper' but I could not understand why the Creator would have White Stage protect me only to give me to such a brutal man. I begged to see my guardian, I begged the Creator for answers, but for the whole year that I lived at the trading post, White Stag never came. I thought that was my answer until Jack hit his head and died. _

"_A week after I ran away, White Stage came to me in a dream and told me to watch for him, that he would come for me and show me the true path. The day I found you in the clearing, I had been following White Stag through the woods for three days. I thought he was taking me back to Red Pony, but . . . I think he was taking me to you. He disappeared just before I stepped out of the trees and saw you."_

"Then why did you run away?" I had often wondered this but had refrained from asking. I had assumed, at the time that it was because she knew what I was.

"_I expect to encounter White Stag as he is my guardian. I even go on long walks sometimes and look for him,"_ She answered honestly. "_You are a being of power, I did not expect to find a son of Thunder Man dressed in the robes of a rainbow and standing in a clearing. It frightened me."_

There were many mysteries in the world, things that even I would never claim understanding of. While I had been brought up Christian and still clung to those beliefs, I wasn't one to mock the spirituality of others. Something, some force beyond my limited ability to comprehend, had obviously brought Little Deer and me together. If it were possible for God to speak to Moses through a burning bush, to make the mighty Nile River run as blood, and give the power of human speech to a lowly donkey then why could He not use a white deer to lead a frightened and desperate girl into the safety of my keeping?

"I think perhaps you might be right, child," I sighed. "I only wish I had realized that fact before returning you to your tribe, it would have saved you from an awful a beating."

* * *

**AN:** Ok, a little house keeping here.

Carlisle professed his love for Little Deer and though she doesn't really say it, she loves him too. _It's strictly platonic folks_, _**NO**_ romantic involvement. That would just be . . . ugh . . . gross! Besides, when Carlisle tells Esme that she is his _one and only_ . . . he means it. I am trying to stay as close to canon as possible while still telling a captivating story.

SM never mentions any formal process or ceremony involved in starting or adding new members to a coven. Also, in her novels, the dynamics of coven life appeared to be a bit more fluid . . . members coming and going and such. I guess it's a humanism, but I like ceremonies . . . they add structure and a semblance of permanence to life. The words of binding are similar to the ones I used in the original 'New Pet' story and they are an adaptation of those used by Christine Feehan in her Carpathian novels.


	10. Chapter 10

**Note:** I do not own or have rights to Twilight or its characters!!!

_**Kleenex Alert**_! For those of you who are sappy, like me, you'll need a couple towards the end of the chapter . . . nothing bad happens kids, it just gets sappy.

_Also a note, you'll notice I'm updating this story more often than my other two at the moment . . . I'm sorry about that. I seem to be stuck in this one for some reason, 1810 Carlisle is very insistent that I tell this tale so please bear with us._

Meant to post this over the weekend but had issues with the site.

* * *

Chapter 10

**Our Eden**

The thick medical text lay open on in my lap, but I wasn't in the least bit interested in it at the moment. I was restless, worse the Little Deer during a blizzard, and I knew precisely why. As a predator, I was acutely aware of the slowly shifting cosmic tides the brought with them the change of seasons. The sun crept higher along the horizon as it roses and set each day and by night the positions of the constellations changed incrementally each time I went hunting.

The days were growing gradually longer and warmer and it was sunny more often than cloudy; my sister no longer needed her heavy winter cloak to go outside during the day. The snows were starting to melt too and the drifts, which had once come up half way of my thigh, were now just below my knees. At night it was still quite cold however and I would often encounter light snow showers during the dark hours.

By my best calculations, given the position of the sun and stars, it was now late February or early March. If the weather continued to improve at this rate, I estimated we would be able to begin our journey east sometime in late April. The ground would be muddy and there would likely still be some patches of snow at certain elevations, but with caution it could be done.

The sound of laughter filtered in through the cabin's open door and the light breeze that accompanied it brought Little Deer's pleasant scent to my nose. It was good to hear her laugh, and she seemed to do it more often these days. Her lessons were coming along well; I had begun teaching her elementary mathematics. She caught on to addition and subtraction easily enough, but multiplication and division was altogether a different matter.

A less pleasant aroma accosted my senses with the next stirring of the breeze, the strong musky smell of horse drifted in, mingled with my sister's scent. Cloud was a welcome addition to our little family. His presence made Little Deer happy and gave her a much needed distraction.

Under my careful supervision she tended him faithfully, applying her special poultice twice a day. The remedy consisted of whatever herbs she collected from the forest mixed with, of all things, honey. I had long known the golden nectar of the lowly bee was used widely in ancient times for the treatment of wound and that it was highly effective at retarding infection. I was very surprised, however, to see Little Deer using it.

She painted the sticky concoction on his wounds after thoroughly cleaning them and covered it with strips of cloth to keep the horse from licking the sweet medicine away. At my insistence, she also exercised him regularly in order to keep him from getting painfully stiff. He was resistant to this at first, but as with all things Little Deer managed to coax him into submission. She truly had a way with horses.

"_Carlisle,"_ the whisper of my name caused me to look up from my book. Little Deer was standing in the doorway looking very upset.

"What's the matter, did Cloud pull your washing off the line again?" I asked before turning my gaze back to my book. It wouldn't be the first time he'd done something mischievous. Cloud was a young horse, perhaps three or four, and he had a playful streak . . . not unlike his mistress. "I've told you before, child, he's not a dog. You should have left him in the paddock while you went about your work."

When she didn't budge from her place in the doorway I looked up again and took closer notice of her expression. Upset would be more accurate if I described the emotion etched on her face as anxious. My sister did not become anxious over mud on her clean laundry, angry perhaps, but not anxious. Only one of a small number of things would elicit this reaction in her; she wasn't feeling well, something was amiss with Cloud, or she was afraid of something. With a sigh I put down my book and got up.

"What is it?" I asked as I strode towards the door.

"_Red Eyes,"_ her frightened answer shocked me. I took a deep breath searching for any unwelcome scents, but I detected nothing. Undoubtedly the intruder was down wind.

"Hello, Carlisle." The sound of Iann's familiar brogue filled my ears. His call was as clear to me as if her were in the room, but Little Deer's human hearing wouldn't have detected it. I smiled, feeling a small measure of relief spread through me.

"You can relax child, Iann is a friend." I told her, hoping to soother her anxiety. "Still, I think I would rather go out and meet him than have him come here. Stay in the house until I return." I took up my coat and moved towards the door.

My sister still stood blocking my way. I glared at her with one eyebrow raised, hoping she would move as I didn't wish to be rude to her, but she continued to stand there

"_Cloud is loose,"_ she protested with a frown.

"Go and put him up . . . quickly, and then come back inside," I instructed her. It frustrated me sometimes that she seemed more concerned with the well being of her horse that with her own. "I'll wait for you."

*****

I raced across the meadow to the shelter of the tree line where I found Iann waiting for me. While I had exposed myself to the sunlight in Little Deer's presence innumerable times over the past few months, and I had become quite comfortable doing it, I now suddenly felt oddly exposed. If I should feel comfortable being myself in front of anyone, I though as I ran, should it not be one of my own kind?

When I finally stopped some ten paces from Iann he was wearing a warm welcoming grin. I found myself very glad to see him, and when he stepped towards me, with his hand extended to me in greeting, I eagerly accepted it.

"You look well." He observed as he released my hand from his grip. "And the girl seems recovered."

"Thank you and yes, Little Deer is much better now." I replied politely. "You too seem to have faired the winter nicely."

"Ahh, but it wasn't easy by any stretch." He shook his head as he answered. "I had to resort to your methods a few times." It was then that I noticed the golden flecks mingled with the vermillion of his eyes. "I don't see how you stand it, hind blood tastes like mud compared to the sweet essence of humans. Still, I suppose it's better than nothing."

"I wouldn't know, Iann, as I've never tasted human blood." I told him plainly. He gave me a disbelieving glare but didn't comment. It was several moments before he recovered.

When he did speak, he moved to a new topic. "Where did you managed to steal the horse form," He asked as he nodded towards the house.

"Iann O'Connor, I do not steal things . . . I _appropriate_ them." I corrected in a tone of mock indignation.

Iann laughed. "Is that so, Dr. Cullen? Well, have you taken notice of my new frock coat," He gestured towards his new attire, "I recently _appropriated _it from the barracks of a British Army captain in Canada. Don't you think the red color bring out my eyes?"

I found myself chuckling as I shook my head. "Little Deer found the horse," I finally confessed. "Along with the body of his former master," I added sourly.

"Don't look at me," Iann took a slightly defensive tone. "As per our agreement, I haven't been hunting in this area and besides I always dispose of my remains properly."

His words were a sudden reminder that while our relationship might be cordial, he had not proven himself sufficiently worthy to be granted the full measure of my trust. My relaxed easy demeanor shifted to one of caution, I had Little Deer's safety to consider after all.

I dismissed his explanation with a wave. "The man was shot to death, not . . . attacked. Speaking of our agreement, what are you doing here; I thought you were going to avoid my territory?"

"Can't a man visit an old friend without rousing suspicions?" Iann joked.

I greeted his words with a skeptically raised eyebrow but said nothing.

"I have news," he finally answered, his expression and tone were both grave.

"Forgive my memory, but I thought news was to be left at the outcropping to the north?" I had insisted on this as I didn't wish to have one of my traditional brethren in close proximity to my very human sister.

"It's too urgent to be left scrawled on a scrap of paper and stuffed under a rock." He insisted.

"Fair enough, what is this most urgent news?" I inquired.

He took a deep breath before beginning, "Well, I was south of here three days ago and the hunting was scares, I tried to . . . Uhm . . . behave, but I couldn't manage to control my desires. I ended up at your friend's village."

My look of horror must have come across a bit more strongly than I intended as Iann stopped his narrative and took several steps backwards. I had asked him to avoid Little Deer's village because I didn't want harm to come to anyone she might care about.

"It's not like you think, I didn't hunt there and I eventually left the village to state my needs . . . on a young elk cow." His words eased my expression and he continued his story. "Anyhow, while I was lurking about, I heard men talking in English. I guessed that it was Savoy and his fellow associates, so I took time to listen.

"It seems they're planning a little hunt of their own, and your girl is the object of their obsession. The only undecided matters seem to be the manor of her death, how much she'll suffer, and how long they intend her dying to take."

My vision went suddenly crimson as fiery rage welled up like magma within me. I didn't remember launching myself at Iann, but when I was in control of my facilities again I had him by the throat and pinned against the nearest gnarled pine tree.

"Let me go Cullen," He begged hoarsely. For the first time I noticed he was truly afraid of me. "I'm just bringing you the message . . . please don't kill me."

I was embarrassed by my lapse of control and instantly let him go; it wasn't him I wanted to kill. My father's ghostly words filled my mind, _"Let us hope he does not return to_ _strike at your heels."_ I turned from Iann, walked a short distance away, and put my right fist completely through the trunk of a large sycamore.

"Remind me never to run afoul of you," I heard him mutter behind me. "When you're angry you make the Volturi look like butterflies."

"I'm sorry Iann, I'm not usually a violent man," I replied calmly as I examined the hand I'd just run through a tree. "I've no idea what came over me just now." I paused and then looked up at Iann, "Did they say when they might begin their hunt?"

"No firm date, but my guess is their waiting on the weather . . . same as you." He paused and then continued cautiously, "Weather of course wouldn't be a problem if you weren't traveling with a human."

And of course, he was right, but I had an advantage that Savoy did not. That is, if Iann was willing to help me after I nearly ripped his head off. "Might I impose on you again?"

There was a long moment of silence as Iann considered my request for further aid, and then he nodded. "Impose away."

*****

I made my way slowly back to the cabin. After my meeting with Iann I made a rare daytime hunt. The stress of my raw emotions left me thirstier than I cared to be in Little Deer's presence. A part of me knew that I would never hurt her, but after losing my control with Iann, I didn't wish to test my resolve further.

Upon opening the front door I found my sister pacing like a nervous cat. The look of worry etched on her innocent face was both painful and precious. A relieved smile automatically turned the corners of my mouth up as the warm richness of her personal scent filled my senses. Her mere presence was enough to relax away a measure of the tension I had been feeling. I continued to smile at her as I found myself suddenly feeling playful.

"Worried about me were you, my child?" I asked in a teasing tone. I wasn't prepared for her response.

She stopped in her tracks and turned to face me, her eyes were full of anxiety. I broadened my warm smile in an attempt to ease her distress, but it seemed of little use. I was about to tell her that I had news, hoping facts and information might make her less edgy when suddenly she exploded towards me.

She leapt at me like a panther pouncing on an antelope, throwing her arms wide to ensnare my middle. I was forced to take a step backwards as I caught her in my own arms. This was in order to soften the blow of her impact. For a human to throw themselves thusly at a vampire was rather like launching head first into a brick wall, had I stood my ground she would have injured herself.

She caught me about the waist and hugged me as fiercely as if I had been away for a fortnight instead of a few hours. The intensity of her affectionate display made my long dead heart melt like candle wax. I returned her affection, but with restraint, if I hugged her with a matching level of emotion I would likely crush her to death.

"Let me go now, Ayala." I insisted softly before planting a whisper of a kiss on the crown of her head. "Iann has given me much news, which you must hear."

Once I had her settled on the edge of her bed, I pulled up my stool, sat down, and proceeded to explain everything. The fact that Henry planned to hunt her down for the supposed murder of his brother didn't come as a surprise. We had discussed this eventuality all winter, but somehow hearing the truth of it exposed from a firsthand source upset my sister more that I had expected.

"We knew this was coming, Ayala," I soothed. "That is why I've spent the winter preparing you for the journey eastward with me."

I looked deeply into her eyes and saw mirrored in their jade depths the unspoken things that I too felt, things that I had felt for a long time, longer even that Little Deer had lived in this sad world. Things that I kept well hidden from myself lest they make my dead heart shatter like glass.

"I know child." I murmured as I reached to stroke her cheek. "I feel it too. You're not the only one who never wants to leave this place . . . our place, our sanctuary in the wilderness. I have come to love it here and, would that we could, I would remain here with you, lost in time and undisturbed until the universe ceased it tireless march. Unfortunately, that is not a reality which we have been afforded." I watched her tears come and wished desperately that I could join her. "We have no choice but to leave, to abandon this wild and magical daydream which we have been privilege to live for a brief while and face the world beyond.

"But remember, my dearest Ayala that while we may no longer live in this place, this place will forever live within use and so it shall never cease being our place . . . our private Eden."

I had moved many times in my unnatural long life. As a rule I never stayed in one place for more than four or five years, longer than that and people began to ask questions about my eternally youthful appearance. I always looked upon my nomadic life as an adventure, the chance to see new places and meet new people. Yet deep within me I yearned for something else, something that I knew I could never have. However, by virtue of a divine favor that I could not explain I had found that something . . . here in the wilderness with Little Deer . . . I had found _a home_ as well as a family.

"Come now, it won't be so bad," I encouraged her gently. My forced happier tone was as much to improve my own somber mood as it was to cheer up Little Deer. "It's not as though you'll be alone, child. No one is tossing you out into the cold cruel world to fend for yourself; Cloud and I are coming too." I moved to sit beside her on the bed and wrapped my arm around her shoulders. "We'll make ourselves a new home and it shall be just as good as this one, you'll see."

* * *

AN: I had a hard time writing the end of this chapter, I was actually in tears writing Carlisle's little speech and I had to stop and get a grip.

While I had a firm grasp on how both Little Deer and Carlisle felt about the prospect leaving, I couldn't quiet find the right words. Then I stumbled across the song '_Maybe'_ by Thom Pace. I'm going to show my age now, this was the theme song for _The Life and Times of Grizzly_ _Adams_, one of my favorite childhood TV shows (we're talking late 1970's here folks . . . yes kids, Blue's as old as dirt!).

Anyway, moving on . . . it expresses, more eloquently than I ever could, the sentiments of these two remarkable characters; Carlisle and Little Deer's longings to remain in paradise, their sense of loosing something very special, and the tragedy of having to leave their little slice of Eden. It also express, especially for Carlisle, the hope for one day finding a true and lasting home.

If you go searching for it on You Tube, make sure you find the whole song. It's a beautiful ballad and reminds me a lot of John Denver's '_Take Me Home Country Road'._


	11. Chapter 11

Note: I do not own or have rights to Twilight or it's characters!!!

_I know, I just posted chapter 10 this morning, but don't be too impressed, its been ready to go since friday night. Like I said, site issues._

* * *

Chapter 11

**Beginnings and Endings**

It was midnight and I had already hunted. I glanced up briefly at the glowing crescent moon as I raced along towards the outcropping of rocks north of our cabin. Already I could faintly detect Iann's personal scent hanging on the cold night air. He agreed three days ago to meet me here and give me a scouting report. I'd asked him to go eastward to the Missouri River and then south along it for a short distance and check the conditions.

This was the route I intended for us to take, east to the Missouri and then we would follow her south all the way to St. Lewis. There were shorter ways to the east, but I had read the journals of The Corps of Discovery quite extensively and I felt that using a better known route might be to our benefit. Where we would go after reaching civilization's western headwaters I had yet to decide.

I arrived at the outcropping and found Iann waiting for me; he greeted me with his customarily enthusiastic broad grin.

"I was beginning to wonder about you," he joked as I shook his hand.

"I had to put Little Deer to bed and then hunt," I explained. "Thank you again for agreeing to help us."

"Don't mention it," he dismissed casually. "I'm curious to see how this plays out, if one of our kind can really coexist in harmony with a human . . . for an extended period of time."

"You've already seen that it is possible, as I have spent an entire winter with her." I insisted.

"You're the exception rather than the rule I fear," he said with a sigh and I watched regret play behind his eyes. "I greatly admire you Carlisle Cullen, if I were but half the man you are, well . . . perhaps I wouldn't be a monster."

"You're not a monster Iann; none of us are . . . unless we chose to be." This was the point that I had tried without success to make to my friend Aro. "My way of life need not be unique; it is a conscious choice that I have made, to rise above my baser nature and become more than a creature driven by my instincts. While it is not an easy thing to do, any among us could accomplish this . . . if they so desired."

"For all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God," Iann quote in a dismissive tone. "Save your lofty words and high minded ideals for the pulpit Reverend, there are some things a man can do and others that he cannot. Wise is the man that knows the difference between the two.

"I know a truly good man when I see one, and I see one in you, but I could never be like you . . . it's just not within me."

I smiled warmly at him and allowed the matter to drop. The seed had been sown, whether it took root and grew was a matter for a power beyond mine.

"How are things east of here?" I asked, politely changing the subject.

"For you traveling alone, just dandy, for you traveling in the company of a horse and a human . . . the word treacherous comes immediately to mind." He ran his hand through his red hair and looked at me gravely. "The snow in most places comes just above the fetlocks of a horse, but in some areas where the land dips it can get belly deep. The warmer temperatures during the day makes the snows melt and the going muddy but at night the melt waters freeze and trails can be icy in the mornings. Most of the creeks and streams are flowing and fordable, but the waters are frigid.

"When I reached the Missouri River I went as far south as the point where the Missouri and Platt meet, there were still a fair number of ice flows swirling in the current, but by the time you two arrive, it ought to be clear. I suspect instead, you'll have to contend with flooding along its banks from the snow melting up river.

"Have I managed to paint a grim enough picture for you yet?" He smirked before adding in a more serious way, "Would you mind answering a question for me . . . in payment for my troubles and all?"

I nodded and awaited his inquiry.

"Henry Savoy is a human, and a worthless one at that . . . you are a vampire. The obvious and most logical course of action in this situation would be to simply eliminate the bastard." Indignation resonated in Iann's voice. "The men with him are followers, not leaders. With him out of the way, you and your girl could live out here in peace forever . . . and trust me, the world won't miss Henry nor shed a tear at his passing."

Iann was right in his own way and I found myself smiling. He thought as the others of my kind did, humans were a necessary evil and a food supply. They were to be tolerated and, as in the case of the village of Volterra, even protected at the best of times. At the worst of times, they were disposed of if they threatened us or learned too much about us. I did not share this view; the humans had as much right as we did to exist.

"That is not the way I do things, Iann." I began in my teaching voice. "In spite of his despicable nature, I am not God and therefor I have no right to Henry Savoy's life."

"Aye, Parson . . . vengeance is mine, sayeth the Lord." Iann mocked with a grunt. "If you're waiting for lightening to smite him or the earth to swallow him up, I suspect he'll live a nice long life . . . after he's done killing your girl."

Anger well within me, but I managed to swallow its filthy bile back down again. Iann couldn't help the opinion he espoused, it was natural. "Thank you for the information, it is most helpful." I turned to leave and added, "Long life and good hunting to you Iann O'Connor. I hope to see you again . . . one day in the future."

"Hold on there, friend," Iann shouted after me, his friendly warm tone returned just that quickly. I stopped and turned back to him. "Since I'll likely not see you again for some time, I've brought you and the girl . . ."

"Her name is Little Deer or Ayala, not _the girl_." I corrected lightly.

"Sorry," he apologized. "I've brought some things for you and . . . Ayala, going away presents if you will." He picked up the burlap sack beside him and offered it to me.

I eyed the sack skeptically for a moment before accepting it. I didn't notice any malice in Iann's expression nor had I noted it in his demeanor. I took a discreet breath, nothing smelled out of the ordinary.

Iann suddenly burst into laughter. "Saints and serpents, man, I'm not trying to put a hex on you, now open it." He happily insisted. As I opened the bag he continued his commentary, "I noticed that you were looking a bit thread bare the last time we meet and I can't see you taking the gir . . . I mean Ayala, into polite society warring buckskins. I hope they fit."

Inside the sack were two complete suites of clothing, one for me and one for Little Deer. I looked up and smiled, "Thank you Iann that was very thoughtful."

He laughed again and dismissed my thanks with a wave. "I hope things work out for you two. If you're ever in this neck of the woods again, look for me. I consider it a great privilege to have met your acquaintance Dr. Carlisle Cullen."

"And I yours, Iann O'Connor," I agreed. With that, he turned and ran off into the night.

*****

"Come now child," I pleaded through the closed cabin door. "Let me have a look. It's only fair as you've seen me already." And she'd laughed at me too, I was very hurt.

_"No."_ I heard her whisper from within the cabin.

I sighed and leaned back against the door jam. From across the way, Cloud regarded me skeptically with one liquid cinnamon eye before turning away with a snort, it would seem even he was unimpressed with my new clothes. Within the cabin I heard the sound of fabric rustling as Little Deer moved about. She was supposed to be trying on the dress Iann brought for her.

"I hate to be severe with you Ayala, but I fear that you leave me no choice." I barked sternly. I didn't mean it the way it sounded of course, and if she were capable of seeing through the wooden door, she would have noted my broad smile and know I was playing. "I'm going to give you to the count of five and then I'm coming in. For modesties sake, let us hope that you are descent.

"One . . . two . . . three . . ."

"_Alright,"_ She whispered from the other side of the door, I knew with a bit of well placed pressure she would acquiesce. _"But . . ."_ She continued and then paused just as my hand brushed against the door knob. I could hear her heart pounding wildly and I nearly rushed in to see what the matter was, then she continued once more. _"But I do not think this strange dress fits."_

That didn't make sense, my own clothes fit perfectly. Iann had quite an accurate eye. I thoroughly inspected her things before stepping outside and they seemed in order. With a sigh I opened the door, slowly so as not to startle her. I found her standing in the center of the cabin wearing a simple yet stunning forest green dress. It complemented her hair and skin tone perfectly and intensified the fiery emerald orbs of her eyes.

Instantly, however I noticed that something was very much amiss. The dress, as she explained shyly through the door, did not fit as it should. It was my turn now to laugh, which caused Little Deer to scowl with frustration.

"Forgive me child," I apologized when I could speak again. "But you have it the wrong way around . . . the buttons go in the front, not the back."

Her scowl deepened, and I found the expression quite endearing. _"Why do women_ _of the east ware such things, how do they work in . . . in this?"_ she tugged at the green fabric of her dress tail, _"I do not see myself gathering wood or fetching water or tanning hides in this . . . thing." _

By now she'd worked herself into quite a tizzy, a forest green ball of furry to be precise. I desperately wanted to laugh again but repressed the urge; I could see no sense in feeding the flames of ire.

With a smile, I crossed the room and took her into my arms, she rested her head against my chest and her heart began to slow its frantic thrum. "Calm yourself, Ayala." I whispered into her hair. "The culture you are about to enter into is different from the one to which you are accustomed. The things they do and the way they dress will seem strange to you at first, but you will adapt and with my help, you will thrive. Now, why don't I step back outside and you can try the dress again."

*****

The morning of our departure dawned cool and cloudy. Little Deer hardly slept, tossing fitfully under her robes on our last night in the little cabin. It wasn't until the small hours of the morning that I noticed the shift in her breathing and heartbeat that indicated she had lost her battle with sleep.

I felt deep compassion for her as her moods over the past few days were a tumultuous mixture of excitement and anxiety. She was just as likely to laugh giddily as we discussed what life might be like in the east as she was to sob inconsolably. It was all very confusing and I found myself spending a great deal of time reading her face and body in an effort to gauge the severity of her coming storms.

In preparation for the day's adventure, I stepped out with the pale grey glow of pre-dawn to hunt and fill my sister's canteens. When I returned she was awake and I found her standing beside her bed clad in the long tailed men's shirt she slept in. Before her, laid out on the narrow cot, were her two outfits, one doeskin the other green cotton. She gave me a questioning look as I set the canteens on the table.

"Wear the doeskin." I instructed, knowing it was what she wanted to do, but she was seeking my permission first. "No sense getting your new things dirty on the trail," I dismissed before excusing myself to attend to some inconsequential matter outside so she could get dressed.

When I returned some time later she had her merger belongings packed into two bundles. One consisted of the two buffalo robes she slept between, the other, her personal effects. I smiled with pleasure and was about to instruct her to ready Cloud when I took note of her expression. She was smiling, but her complexion held a slight greenish cast to it and her heart was pounding like a war drum. I couldn't decide whether she was excited or about to be sick.

"Are you alright?" I didn't wish to postpone the beginning of our trip, but if she was ill then it couldn't be helped.

_"I have a . . . gift for you."_ She stammered shyly.

A gift I thought, what item could she possibly have to give me? Hadn't she already given me the most wondrous gifts imaginable . . . her complete trust, the presence of her company, the sense of family that I'd always wanted? I watched as she went to where her bundles rested on the cot. She paused there briefly as if trying to decide what to do next. When she returned to me she was carrying something made of buckskin.

_"I made this for you."_ She told me as she presented her gift. The joy she felt in her heart danced in her eyes as she said it and I couldn't help be feel humbled as I accepted her offering.

Even before I unfolded it, I recognized the beadwork; this was the sewing project that she had work so diligently on all winter. I hadn't seen it in some weeks and wondered what had become of it. When I unfurled it completely I was stunned beyond words, it was the most beautiful creation I ever laid eyes on. If I were human I would have wept.

_"It is a Ceremonial Shirt, my brother,"_ She informed me; there was a certain purr of pride in the way she whispered it. _"Had we remained here to celebrate the spring planting, I would have given it to you then. I give it to you now, to celebrate our journey to a new life."_

Her generosity left me speechless and when I didn't say anything in recognition of her gift for some minutes, her bright smile and warm expression turned into a devastated frown. I was heartbroken that my lack of response had caused her such sadness, but what she said next nearly made my knees buckle with shock and pain.

_"I am sorry; you do not like the gift,"_ she turned away from me and walked back to her cot. _"I had nothing else of worth to offer a Sky Being. It was silly of me to think you would want such a common thing when you can wear Thunder Man's rainbow instead."_

It took every ounce of control I possessed not to rush over and scoop her into my embrace. I didn't wish to hurt her in the flood of affection I was feeling, I counted to ten at human speed before approaching her.

"I'm sorry I made you feel badly," I was having trouble finding adequate words to express what I was feeling. "It is the most beautiful and thoughtful gift anyone has ever given me. Given the choice between wearing Thunder Man's rainbow and your shirt . . . I would choose your shirt . . . every day . . . until it falls apart from overuse."

*****

I stood silently in the doorway of our cabin watching Little Deer tighten the cinch on Cloud's saddle. I loved watching her work with her horse; Eastern cultures could learn a lot about the equestrian art from the native peoples. She treated him less like a beast of burden and more like a partner and friend.

The real treat that I was selfishly indulging in at that moment, was listening to my sister sing. I knew from my examinations of her that she was capable of making sounds in spite of having no tongue. Her vocal cords were developed and intact and, as far as I could tell, undamaged. Throughout our winter here, however, I had heard only a few real sounds out of her, grunts of disgust, squeals of joy, and moans of pain, but this . . . this was celestial. Her singing could bring the whole host of heaven to tears with its beauty.

When I finally managed to unravel myself from the spell of Little Deer's voice, I called out to her. I was disappointed when her song ceased but my disappointment was short lived. When she turned around and saw me, wearing the shirt she made for me, her whole body trembled with joy. She let out a triumphant squeal that startled Cloud, but made me laugh. If this was all it took to make her happy . . . to wear her shirt, then I was determined never to take it off.

She went back to her work and her singing, fastening her bundled buffalo robes behind the saddle and scolding Cloud like a naughty puppy for not being still. I turned back to the empty interior of the cabin and sighed sadly. I had just seen the most radiant smile in the history of smiles on my sister's face, but I knew shortly that would change . . . and I would make it so.

I strolled through the cabin one last time, checking to make sure we had packed everything of importance. My own bundle of belongings lay under the tree near Cloud's paddock. I swallowed hard as the memories of the past few months played with vivid clarity through my mind. I loved this place and Little Deer loved it even more. The simple wooden walls, sod roof, and dirt floor of this tiny structure had become transcendent, more than just a physical dwelling; they represented the spiritual essence of what home really was. This truth only made my current task that much the harder as I approached the wood pile and dug deep behind it for the object I had hidden there.

'_Judas,'_ my mind hissed angrily, _'betrayer!'_

"I have no choice," I whispered to myself. "If by this act, I can make Savoy end his pursuit of Little Deer here and come no further. Then I will endure my sister's grief."

I grasped the handle of the torch that I fashioned several nights ago while Little Deer slept and pulled it from its hiding place. In spite of my resolve, my dead heart ached and burned as if on fire itself. Ignoring the pain, I plunged the end of the torch into the hearth's dying embers. Hungry orange tongues soon danced and licked around the torch wicking and I withdrew it from the hearth.

Suddenly I felt as thought I'd swallowed a stone . . . no, a boulder . . . no, a mountain. Not once since awakening to this life had I ever felt sick, not even while watching the goriest and most gruesome of surgical procedures. I'd even seen men hanged and, while I felt sorry for them, the witnessing of it had not affected me physically. But now, standing with the lit torch in my hand and with the reality of what I must do staring me in the face . . . I was physical ill and shaking.

I scanned the room for the best ignition point and became even sicker when I realized where that would be. I closed my eyes and groaned. With a sigh I tossed the torch into the far corner of the cabin, watching with sadness as it landed on the floor and rolled under the cot Little Deer had slept in all these many nights. Within minutes the greedy flames were devouring the dry bed ticking and licking their way up the wall. Secure in the grim knowalage that the cabin would be consumed, I turned and exited.

I stepped out the door, smoke billowing behind me, and found my sister rushing towards the burning structure. Her face was a mask of horror as she approached me. As gently as I could, I caught her about the waist and swung her around away from her intended destination.

"It must be, Ayala," I pleaded into her hair even as she struggled against my hold. "I'm sorry, Ayala, but it must be." I continued to hold her until her struggles ceased and she went still in my arms.

"My child, I swear before the Creator," I whispered as I ushered her towards her horse and helped her to mount, "I will build you a new house, from the ground up, with naught but my own two hands and it shall stand for all time until _He_ strikes it down."

* * *

AN: If your curious and want to know what the shirt Little Deer made for Carlisle looks like, I posted a link on my profile page. the site also gives pictures and information on fronteir clothing of the 1800's. Ceremonial Shirts were also sometimes call War Shirts or Scalp Shirts and the right to wear them had to be earned.


	12. Chapter 12

**Note:** I do not own or have rights to Twilight or its charaters!!!

Chapter 12

**Star of Wonder**

As twilight painted the western sky in brilliant hues of gold and coral, I decided it was time to stop for the night. It was only our first day on the trail and we made good progress. Cloud held up well against the rigors of travel and Little Deer was sensitive to he needs, alternating between riding and walking beside him.

While I gather wood and made a fire, my sister took the tomahawk and cut young pine boughs to make a bed. She would cover these she with one of her buffalo robes, thus providing a layer of insulation between her and the cold earth. She worked, as she had traveled . . . in utter silence.

Since leaving our wilderness home she had not whispered a single word. Only that morning I'd had the pleasure of hearing her sing, but I heartily feared that I would never hear that sound again. Her silence had a tangible presence to it that clung like an unwanted rider to my back all day. I wasn't sure how much longer I could endure her not speaking to me.

As bad as her silence was, her avoidance of eye contact with me was even worse. She would not look at me, even when I called her name, and she kept her head down and her back to me as she worked. When she did happen to accidently gaze my way, her expression was one of sadness and anger.

Frustration, regret, melancholy, and several other emotions swirled in the pit of my stomach. If our journey eastward was going to be like this in its entirety, I was sure to go mad.

"Please say something." I finally asked when the quite of the camp became too much. She looked up from her bowl of corn gruel but didn't speak. "How many times must I say that I'm sorry?" My fingers raked through my hair as I went on. "I explained the necessity of burning the house, what more do you want. Do you think I found it pleasant, setting a torch to the home that we shared? Do you think my heart rejoiced as I watched it consumed by the flames?" A frustrated growl clawed its way from my throat to ring on the night air. I need a distraction to settle me, the scent of deer wafted through the camp. Hunting and a long run would put me in a better mood.

"I'm going for a walk," I told her in a quieter voice. "I won't go too far."

I turned to leave but made only a few steps before she stopped me. _"Why did you_ _not tell me?"_ Her whispered words sounded like a shout in the still of the night. _"Why did you not tell me that you planed to . . . that you would . . . that you would . . ."_

"That I planned to burn the house." I finished quietly as I turned back to her. This is what you wanted Carlisle, for her to open up and bear her feelings. Now that she was talking again, I needed to tread with care, to be open and honest without sounding harsh.

I slowly strode back to my place by the fire and took my seat. _Why hadn't I told_ _her_, it was a fair enough question? Perhaps it was due to my patriarchal and somewhat patronizing attitude towards her. I meant no harm in this as I loved and respected her very much. The slightly overbearing way I expressed my affections for her and attended to my duties with regards to her care were characteristic of me. It was simply my way of 'looking after' her.

Then again, I may have neglected to tell her because I didn't wish to deal with her sentimental protesting. I hated to see hurt in her eyes and I hated it even more when I knew that I was the cause of it. She would have begged me not to destroy our home just as she'd pleaded for the life of Cloud. In the end, as with the horse, I wouldn't have been able to say no to her.

While both of these arguments were valid, I knew the real reason was something deeper, something that I didn't wish to admit to myself let alone to her. _'Be honest for once Carlisle,'_ my mind hissed, _'with yourself and Little Deer.'_

"I could give you lots of excuses, Little Deer." I admitted with a sigh. "I could say a any number of things that would sound very pretty, but mean nothing and while there would be some truth in them . . . it wouldn't_ be_ the truth."

_"Then what is the truth, Panther Eyes?"_

"Everything I told you earlier is factual," I was looking for a place to begin. "What I told you about needing to set a scene in hopes that Savoy will find the burned out house and think that you are dead. I didn't lie to you in that."

_"But why did you not tell me about your plan? To see the fire hurt. I thought you did not value . . ."_ her whisper trailed off sadly.

"I know it hurt you, and I am sorry." I apologized once again. "Never think that I did not value our special place, I assure you I feel just as strongly about the sanctity of our home as you."

_'Time to face yourself, Carlisle, time to face the fact that, for a vampire, you're still quite human,'_ my mind chided. What could I retort in defense? This was all new to me, this business of relationships, and I had no guide posts to mark my way no maps to follow through the unknown and uncharted.

"I wasn't entirely sure I could do it," I admitted softly. In that moment, the truth, and indeed my very soul, was laid naked and prostrate before her.

I looked up to meet her gaze and for the first time since this morning, I saw in the depths of her eyes the Little Deer I loved so dearly. Gone was the angry emerald fire, the painful rage, and the bitterness that I caught brief glimpses of all day . . . all that remained now was a hint of sadness and a wellspring of unconditional love. Encouraged by her reaction, I pressed on.

"I wasn't sure I could destroy a place that meant so much to me. I've lived in many, many places over the course of my life, but I've never felt connected to one . . . to a home, as I felt to our cabin. I pride myself on being a man of integrity, a man of my word. If I told you I intended to burn down the cabin, I would have felt locked into doing it. Not telling you gave me room to, well . . . be a coward, if I found I couldn't go through with it."

_"You are not a coward, Panther Eyes."_ She told me plainly though her voice trembled with emotion as she said it. _"You have the brave heart of the warrior but also the timeless wisdom of the shaman."_

"You look at me through the innocent eyes of love Little Deer, and so you see in me only that which is good and pure." I dismissed gently. "Believe me; I can be just as much of a coward as the next man."

_"You are one of the Sky People, you are brave."_ There was more insistence and less emotion in her words this time.

"That is true, my child." I agreed lightly even as I dismissed her assessment of my courage. "I am a Sky Being, but I am also a child of the Creator, just as you are, and as such I am fraught with imperfections. This is as it should be, if I had no faults then I might think myself equal to or perhaps even better than Him that made me."

She continued to watch me for a time and then, with a slow nod she turned her attention back to her meal of corn gruel.

The scent of deer still lingered on the breeze, and while my thirst burned hotly, my mind would not release Little Deer's words from its grip. It wasn't simply _what_ she said that captivated me, but the conviction with which she said it and the flood of innocent love that filled her eyes and resonated in her voice. She believed in me, completely, without hesitation or reservation. I found that fact both utterly intoxicating and rudely sobering.

'_For unto whomsoever much is given, of him shall be much required: and to whom men have committed much, of him they will ask more.'_ The words of Luke the Physician played through the vast corridors of my mind. Much had been given to me in the form of the blessing of a family and unto me much had been committed as my sister had bestowed on me the full measure of her faith and trust. I only hoped I was worthy of the mantle that now rested on my stony shoulders.

"Little Deer," I called softly, when she looked up at me again my breath caught. "I would ask something of you, child. No matter what hardships and strife life might make us endure together, please promise me you will always see me, with the eyes of your heart, as you see me now."

She smiled and nodded, but I could tell she didn't understand the true nature of what I was asking . . . that she would always look upon me in love and see me for better than what I was.

*****

After settling my sister into her bed for the night and making one last cheek of Cloud to ensure he was picketed securely I set off to hunt. My mind still hummed with the emotional intensity of our conversation. I was glad she forgave me for burning the house, but I was even gladder still that I told her the truth. I didn't like having enmity between us.

When I returned at dawn I found the camp empty except for Cloud and the smoldering remains of the fire. I tried not to panic; Little Deer obviously wouldn't have gone far. I took a deep breath, her scent was still strong in the small glen and I trotted off to follow the trail. More than likely, I scolded myself, she had gone to relive herself . . . or perhaps wash up.

Her scent trail led me north along a nearby creek for a short distance and then inland back toward the west. Now I was truly confused and, though I couldn't detect any other scent mingled with hers, I was worried she might have been taken. An angry growl ripped from my throat as I increased my speed.

I broke from the trees moments later in another nondescript glen, just like the one we had made our camp in. In the center of the clearing I saw Little Deer. Her back was to me and she was kneeling in the dirt. Instinctively I scanned the area for enemies, but she was alone . . . only _her heart beat_ thrummed in my ears and only _her scent_ hung heavy in the dawn air.

I stepped out of the trees and made my way towards her, "Ayala," I called softly as I made a supreme effort to keep all negative emotion out of my voice. She didn't responded and it was then that I noticed the subtle tremble of her shoulders. My sister was crying.

Instantly I was beside her, kneeling next to her with one arm wrapped around her shoulders. I couldn't stand to see my sister in tears. "Little Deer," I whisper in Sioux. She didn't answer me but her crying eased after several minutes. As she gathered herself I noticed she was clutching something tightly in her hands, holding it close against her chest as if her very life depended on it.

"_White Stag brought me here,"_ she finally whispered sadly. She continued to clutch whatever she was holding with one hand as she pointed with the other, _"That is all that is left of their wagon."_

I looked up, following the line she was pointing in to an overgrown pile of rubble. The only noticeable sign that it had once, indeed, been a wagon were the rotting rims of the wooden wheels.

"_This is where they died,"_ she mumbled as I helped her to her feet. _"This is where Red Pony found me."_

I pulled her into my arms and held her for a time. When I was sure she was steady on her feet I left her side and went to investigate the remains of the wagon. To the untrained eye, it looked like a useless pile of rotting limbs being devoured by bramble and weeds. When I pulled the overgrowth back, the wooden skeleton became quite clear.

What possessed me to rummage through the decaying lichen cover remains, I couldn't fathom. Anything of value would either have been scavenged by now or succumb to the ravages of time and a harsh environment. I turned over several boards and watched in amazement as an entomologist's cornucopia scattered in every direction. As I continued my survey, I bumped against several scraps near one of the wheels and, to my surprise, a hallow compartment fell open. I single object rested with in . . . a small leather bound book. I didn't have time to examine it properly so I pushed it into my travel bag.

Something shinny among the remains caught my eye next and I picked it up. The shard of broken board had a small brass plaque attached to it. I gently rubbed the bit of metal against the leg of my breaches to remove the layer of grime that had accumulated over the years. When I looked at it again words were visible; _Property of Nathanial and Esther Barraza._

Without showing her my find, I deftly removed the brass plate from the rotting scrap of wood and slipped it into my bag along with the book. I now had two new pieces to the puzzle that I hoped would unlock Little Deer's past. Eventually I would show them to her, but not just yet. When I tuned back to her, she was still standing there, dumbstruck and clutching whatever she held. Curiosity had me firmly in her seductive grasp.

"What have you got there, Ayala?" I asked gently as I returned to her side. I knew that she wouldn't hesitate to tell me and I felt a little guilty in asking . . . especially considering the treasures I had hidden in my bag.

She looked up from staring at her hands and held out a gleaming object to me. I took it from her reverently and glanced down at it. I now held in my hand a gold locket the size of a small hen's egg, the chain of which was missing. It was beautifully crafted with fine filigree work etched on the front. When I turned it over, expecting to find more of the same on the back, my breath caught in my throat at the sight of what I found instead.

"_What is that?"_ Little Deer whispered pointing to the symbol etched on the back face of the locket.

"It is . . . The Star of David." I finally answered when I could manage words again.

The implications of finding such a mark on this locket coupled with Little Deer's unusual given name and her surname, Barraza, pointed to a most remarkable genealogy. To my great relief, she didn't inquire further about the star. One could give a lengthy dissertation on its meaning, history, religious significant, and the various legends that surrounded it. At that moment, I was not in the mood.

With extreme care, as the artifact might be fragile after so many years of exposure to the elements, I opened the locket. The golden surfaces inside the halves gleamed in the morning sun as if newly cast. Both faces were engraved in an elegant flourishing script.

"_The words look funny, what does it say Carlisle?"_ she whispered as she looked over my arm at her treasure.

I read the left side first, "Nathanial and Esther, August 11th 1792."

"_Her name was Esther,"_ she whispered softly and for a moment I thought she was going to start crying again. Instead, she looked up at me with a confused scowl on her face, _"What does that mean?"_

"It's likely your parents wedding date. It's defiantly a woman's locket, so I would guess that this might have been an anniversary gift given to your mother by your father." I supplied.

I watched her expression for a time before reading the right side to her. The inscription was from the eight chapter of the _Song of Solomon_, "Set me as a seal upon thine heart, as a seal upon thine arm: for love is strong as death, jealousy as cruel as the grave: the coals thereof are coals of fire, which hath a most vehement flame. Many waters cannot quench love, neither can the floods drowned it." I closed the locket with just as much care as I had opened it and then handed it back to her. "When I'm in a place to acquire one, I'll buy you a gold chain, so that you might wear it."

She accepted the treasure back, clutching it once again to her bosom as if it were a vapor that might escape and be gone forever.

"_It could be my birthday."_ She whispered absently.

"I should think not," I corrected gently as I steered her back towards the trail and our camp. "Your father wouldn't have given her a locket with that particular inscription on it as a memento of your birth. It's clearly a lover's token . . . he must have loved your mother very much." I paused and then added, "Besides, by my best calculation, you wouldn't have been born until sometime in 1795 . . . at least three years after your parent's marriage."

* * *

_**Important, please read! If you never read another AN from me, read this one!!!**_

**AN:** _I am not_ an anti-Semite and neither is Carlisle, so please, _do not_ send me any hostile reviews or email as I will only delete them. (By hostile I mean exactly that, all other reviews, questions, and comments are welcome and encouraged.)

As I have engaged in the writing of this story, I have gone to great lengths to be mindful and respectful of the various cultures and ethnic groups that I portray. I will continue in this endeavor.

I actually considered rewriting this chapter, _several _times; for fear that it would be misconstrued. In the end, however, the good doctor and I decided to stick with the original story arch.

Thank you for your time and attention and as always . . . thank you for your support.

Blueroan


	13. Chapter 13

**Note:** I do not own or have rights to Twilight or its characters!!!

_I meant to finish this chapter and post it over the weekend, but I've been sick since Thursday and I couldn't manage it. All I could get out of 1810 Carlisle was, ' I recommend a stout tea with a twist of lemon and a generous dollop of honey to relieve your sore throat and complete bed rest for the next several days. That should have you right as rain again in no time.' _

_This morning he graciously let me finish this chapter and I do do feel somewhat better, though it took a little more than hot tea and bed rest to do the job._

* * *

Chapter 13

**Distant Voices**

I sat opposite Little Deer, watching her sleep. She was tucked snuggly under her buffalo robe and I could clearly hear her faint snoring. As a general rule I liked watching humans sleep. While it might seem a dreary pastime to some, I found it enlightening. In their nightly repose I observed in them a certain peacefulness and vulnerability that they lacked when awake. If truth be told, I envied them. Sleeping gave them the chance to slip the earthly moorings of reality and drift on the fertile sea of dreaming. It was one of the few human things I missed doing.

Our second day passed much like our first, but with one major exception, Little Deer was not silent. I was favored, much to my delight, with not only her conversation, but also her singing. When I inquired about the melodies, she told me that they were traveling songs. The women would sing them as the packed up the camp in the spring to move to the summer hunting grounds. I couldn't help smiling as the memory of her voice from earlier that day danced through my mind.

As she continued to sleep, something else came to the forefront of my remembering and I reached for my traveling bag. I rummaged around inside and soon my hand brushed against what I was seeking. With great care I pulled out the leather bound book I'd discovered that morning among the wagon wreckage. My thoughts turned to this most unique treasure often during the day's long march. I had to exercise a great deal of self discipline as I wanted nothing better than to take it out and examine it. Eternal thirst might make my throat burn as hell fire, but nothing can compare with the way curiosity scorches the mind and soul.

I turn the book over several times in my hands, noting its worn surface and the faded gold lettering on the front, _Nathanial Barraza, 1800-_ , the ending date was blank denoting a work, and a life, yet in progress. When I opened it to the first page, my eyes were greeted by hand written words in a confidant legible script. I instantly realized that this must have been Nathanial's journal. I flipped briefly through the pages, finding a full two thirds of them filled with writing. Little Deer's father was quite prolific.

With a mixture of curiosity and trepidation I turned to the last page that contained writing . . . the final entry, and began to read.

_August 5, 1800_

_Tuesday_

_If all goes well, this will be our last night on the trail. We are but a day's journey from our new home and should reach it tomorrow evening. I've thought about this moment many times as Esther, Ayala and I have traveled. I cannot say how they will react, but I hope they like the new home I've built for them. _

_It is a small cabin for the three of us to share, but I hope to expand it next spring. I plan to use the lumber from the wagon to build a shed for the ox and the goats. Esther keeps going on about a coop for her chickens. I cannot help but laugh, the way she fusses over them. Still, I suppose if I don't make one, she'll have those birds inside the cabin with us. I love Esther very much and would gladly give her all of her hearts desires and more, but there are some things a man cannot abide . . . chickens in the house is one of these._

_Of us all, I think it is Ayala who has enjoyed this journey the most. When she hasn't been tagging at my heels like a puppy as I walk, or riding on the ox, whom she has affectionately named Goliath, she can be found darting here and there exploring the vast wonders around her. My daughter's intrepid behavior has given her mother a number of new silver strands to accent her glorious mahogany teases, these my Esther worries over but I insist to her that they make her even more beautiful._

_And speaking of my beloved, and I often do, it will be nice to celebrate nine years together as husband and wife in our little home in the wild wood. Ayala too will celebrate, as she will turn six in December. Chief Red Pony has promised to come by in the next few weeks. He told me before I left to fetch my family westward that, come the following autumn, he and his warriors would begin looking for my return. Red Pony is a good man and a good friend and I have missed his wise council over this past year. His wife, Ground Squirrel, is a fine hospitable woman and a remarkable mother to their little daughter Winter Berry. It would be nice if she and Ayala became playmates as they were born around the same time._

_Now my Esther is glaring at me. She thinks I am too young to write my memoirs, but I keep telling her I must write them while I am young enough to remember them. Still, she has a point, we have a long day tomorrow and I should get some sleep._

I closed the book and held it firmly in my cold hands. In a few brief paragraphs I had gleaned a concrete understanding of a man that I had never met. He was a man of passion, who loved his wife and child with all of his heart and every fiber of his being. He was a man of peace and tolerance, becoming close friends with Red Pony and his family in spite of their cultural differences. He was a man, not unlike me, with the exception of one thing . . . his humanity. I suddenly felt a gnawing wave of sadness wash through me as I sorely wished I'd had the pleasure to meet Nathanial Barraza.

I had intended to read the journal in its entirety; it would have taken only an hour or so, but decided against it for the moment. I was still trying to digest what I'd just read. I decided instead that I would read it slowly, over the course of the next several nights.

As I pushed the book back into my bag a shocking revelation occurred to me.

"_If all goes well, this will be our last night on the trail. We are but a day's journey from our new home and should reach it tomorrow evening." _The first two lines of the journal entry filled my mind with chilling clarity. In our time at the cabin I had hunted the land around our home extensively. By virtue of my nature I could cover vast expanses at great speed, ranging in a single night distances that the average human would take days to sojourn . . . even by horse.

While I had likely passed through the glen where Little Deer found the remains of the wagon, I had not come across in my hunts any other human habitation, not even the remains of one. The implications of this were as stark as they were stunning. The cabin Little Deer recovered in, the cabin we sheltered in through a cold bleak winter, the cabin we had called _home_ was likely the same one mentioned in the journal. The one built by Nathanial Barraza for his family.

"Dear God, I burned her father's house down." The whispered words escaped my lips before I could stop them. In that moment I felt more guilty and despicable than I had in the whole of my existence. I had robbed her of her only legacy, perhaps I was a demon after all.

*****

I let Little Deer sleep well into the morning; this was very much on purpose. As we neared the Missouri River we would likely encounter more human traffic. I needed to flip my sister's sleep/wake schedule so that we could travel by night and I could avoid exposure. While she might delight at the sight of me wearing Thunder Man's rainbow others would not.

Aro and the Volturi most defiantly would not, in spite of my friendship the leader of our world; I doubted he would look with leniency on my endeavors with Little Deer. While he patiently indulged my dietary eccentricities, in spite of his firm opinion that there was something amiss about me . . . his brothers were far less understanding. Caius especially would enjoy dispatching me, in a most excruciating way. I shuddered to imagine what they would do to Little Deer.

I shook those frightfully gruesome thoughts from my head and turned my focus back to my plans for our future travel . . . more specifically, to my plans for my sister.

Like most primates, the human animal tended to be diurnal, to make the switch to a nocturnal life would require some adjustment time as it was outside the natural order of things. My plan was to gradually push our morning start times forward and press on longer into the night. Eventually, by the time we reached the river, Little Deer would be sleeping all day and traveling all night. I was quite pleased with my intended plan, it was simple yet effective . . . and if I was careful about it, Little Deer wouldn't notice what was happening until she was sleeping half the day away and journeying well into the night.

The sound of Cloud snorting drew me from my thoughts. Though I was deep in contemplation, a portion of my vast mind remained fixed on my sister and her horse. They were trailing behind me; Cloud's lead rope was firmly grasped in my left hand. While Little Deer was an experienced rider and could handle a horse on her own, I felt somewhat better leading her.

Being able to lead Cloud was also a crucial part of my plan. Over the course of the winter the grey gelding had become increasingly tolerant of me, allowing me to get quite close to him. I could even touch him now if the need arose, though he still didn't appreciate the gesture. This was fortuitous, as I would soon be leading him through the pitch dark forest at night. I needed him to trust me and by leading him now, I was building that trust for later.

I glanced over my shoulder to see what my sister and her four legged friend were up to. Cloud's reins hung loose about his neck as he lumbered along behind me. Perched on his back and humming to herself like a lark, my sister seemed oblivious to her mount. Perhaps her nonchalant demeanor was due to the fact that she trusted him to follow me and behave. In any case she was preoccupied with something in her hands that she was fidgeting with.

"What are you messing about with?" I couldn't help but ask. I suppressed a frown when her humming stopped. She smiled at me and then brought her finger to her lips and shushed me before going back to her work and her singing.

I, in turn, went back to my walking; wondering what had her so enthralled. I sighed; she would show me in her own time. Little Deer was always very forthcoming.

'_Unlike you,'_ my mind hissed. _'The way you keep things from her, it would leave one to think you didn't trust her.'_

Of course that wasn't true, I trusted Little Deer implicitly. She was the only human to ever see me in sun light. While she didn't know the truth of my nature, she knew that I wasn't human. I even admitted to her, most nights anyway, that I was stepping out for the purpose of hunting.

'_Yet in your bag is a treasure, a secret, that is rightfully hers to know,'_ my mind continued to badger.

I rolled me eyed in disgust as I sighed. _'I will tell her, in time,'_ in insisted silently in reply.

"_Carlisle,"_ Her whispered call was a welcome relief from my internal debate.

I turned back to see her smiling, my eyes immediately finding the gleaming object she now wore about her neck. Her mother's locket glistened with golden fire in the late morning sun. She had it fastened by a strand of leather lacing that she'd acquired from somewhere. There was a certain rightness in her wearing it, but I still intended to purchase a gold chain to accompany it.

"It looks beautiful on you," I commented with a grin. "But be sure it is securely fastened, that is not a treasure that can be replaced if you should lose it."

She gave the thong a couple of hard tugs to demonstrate that it was indeed secure and I nodded my approval. I was about to turn back to the trail before me when something about Little Deer's expression caught me off guard. Suddenly she was standing upright in the stirrups and pointing. I turned to see what had her startled, but saw nothing.

"_Did you see him?"_ Little Deer asked excitedly. _"White Stag crossed the trail in front of us."_

I shook my head even as I took a deep breath. The only scent clinging to the still morning air was that of my sister and her horse. The only heartbeats in the immediate vicinity were those belonging to my party. We were alone in the wilderness.

"There's nothing there child," I tried to sound gentle. "Are you sure of what you saw . . . that it was White Stag?"

"_I would know him anywhere,"_ She insisted as she urged Cloud forward with a nudge of her heels. _"We should follow him."_

"Hold on there," I gave Cloud's lead rope a firm tug bringing him to a stop. The horse whickered and shook his head with annoyance. The look in his hug cinnamon eye clearly said 'make up your mind'. I sighed my apology to the poor beast before returning my attention to my sister. "There's nothing to follow Ayala, besides, this is a good trail we're on. Where you're pointing to is little more than a break in the trees . . . an animal track better suited for rabbits and foxes."

"_He wants us to follow."_ Little Deer insisted, her whisper was as pleading as her expression. Our indecision had Cloud dancing nervously on his lead.

"Ayala, my child, I have every respect for you and your beliefs," I was trying to sound firm yet understanding. "However, I'm not about to take off down a nonexistent trail following after a will-o'-the-wisp." I saw the hurt flood into her jade eyes and it was all I could do to remain focused and in control. After all, I had both our well beings to account for. "We're keeping to the trail, and that's that, now I sorry if that disappoints you, but . . ."

I cut the statement short. My sister sat atop her horse glaring down at me hotly, her arms folded across her chest and her eyes narrowed to mere slits. The most sever scowl I had ever seen twisted her features. She didn't need to utter a single word to convey her displeasure; her countenance shouted it to the four winds. What she did next however left me shocked. Although it was faint, I clearly heard it . . . she growled at me!

"Mind your tone, young lady!" I corrected her sternly before turning to continue down the trail.

*****

I trudged along in silence. Behind me, Little Deer was now walking beside Cloud giving the horse a much deserved break. In all my years, I had never had a human growl at me before and it was a bit starling; one of my own kind, yes, but never a human. Of course I was well aware that humans, as a species, were capable of all manner of animalistic sounds ranging from grunts and whimpers to growls and even roars. But I had never had one of these fiercer vocalizations aimed at me before.

A part from the shock of hearing such a primitive angry rumble tearing itself from my sister's delicate throat, I suppose I felt a bit miffed. I wasn't trying to be mean to her nor was I making light of her beliefs. My insistence on keeping to the trail was an issue of safety and nothing more. Our present course was a wide well trodden track that made easy going for us as well as Cloud. I imagined it might even have even been the same trail Nathanial and his family used as they brought their ox cart along. To go traipsing off along an uncharted path through the underbrush to . . . god knows where, behind a twist of wind and a fickle shaft of sunlight was preposterous.

'_Is that so?'_ my mind purred softly. '_And I suppose, oh highly enlightened one that you know exactly where this trail leads.' _

'_Yes,'_ I fired back hotly. _'Yes I do. We are going east and that means that we will eventually come to the Missouri River. The river bisects this land from north to south like a great silver serpent, if we continue on our current course, finding it is inevitable.'_

'_As inevitable as drowning, I would surmise,'_ my mind voice mused casually.

'_What's that supposed to mean?'_ I retorted. Perhaps I was losing my mind after all; even my inner voice wasn't making sense any more.

'_Oh I don't mean you,'_ the voice inside my head snickered. _'Vampires can't drown; we've tried that one already . . . the White Cliffs of Dover remember. However, you ought to take note of the trail in front of you, as your present company might find swimming in icy currents and breathing under water to be quite a test of their mortal limitations.'_

The world around me suddenly came into sharp focus. While vampires cannot sleep and therefore cannot dream, we were capable of the most vividly lifelike and utterly distracting daydreams. As I came out of the fog of my latest episode of one of these wakening dreams, I came to an abrupt halt. My eyes scanned the trail in front of me and I was horrified. Approximately fifteen yards ahead of me, the path diapered into a murky swirling abyss as the ordinarily calm backwater tributary of the Missouri had swallowed the trail along with a considerable amount of real-estate along either of its banks.

I felt Little Deer's hand grasp my elbow as she came to stand beside me. I turned to look at her, expecting to find triumph in her eyes as I had obviously been wrong about the trail. Instead I found fear.

"_I cannot swim."_ She confessed quietly.

I was about to say something reassuring to her when I felt a hard nudge in the small of my back. I turned around to find a thousand pounds worth of horse standing right behind me shaking his head and nickering very adamantly. Whoever said that the horse was nothing but a dumb beast hadn't had the pleasure of meeting Cloud? He was anything but dumb and he had a very effective way of expressing his opinions. It was no wonder that the horse was known among some Native Peoples as _'The Sacred Dog._'

I was laughing now, in spite of myself.

"I suppose its unanimous then," I said happily as I wrapped one arm around Little Deer's shoulders. "No swimming today." When I looked down at my sister she had a relieved smile on her face. "Why don't we call it a day?" I suggested as I led my little family back up the trail. "I thought I saw a very nice camp site about a mile back, we'll make for it. Later, after you and Cloud are settled in, I can do some scouting." Then I paused, looked down at my sister and added, very softly, "Thank you."

Confusion clouded her features as she looked up at me and I chuckled as I answered her unasked question. "For not calling me into account for my arrogance . . . for not saying, _'I told you so.'_."

She said nothing in answer, but instead rested her head against me as we walked.


	14. Chapter 14

**Note:** I do not own or have rights to Twilight or its characters!!!

_I know you guys must have thought I'd given up on this story . . . **NOT!!** Some times things need to stew a while before they can come togather._

Chapter 14

**My Sister's Keeper**

I sat in silence watching the steady down pour beyond the mouth of the shallow cave we had been sheltering in for the past two days and a night. It looked as though we would spend yet another damp and dreary night here. The cold spring rain complicated our travel in other ways too.

When we found the swollen tributary of the Missouri un-fordable, I scouted the length of it for the distance of many days travel. The conditions all along it were the same, making crossing impossible. I decided the best course of action would be to parallel the flood swollen stream. Eventually it would merge with the Missouri further downstream allowing us to continue southward once we hit the confluence.

That had been three weeks ago, now we sat stymied by the weather less than a day away from the Missouri. While I found the delay irritating, my companions took it in stride using the time to rest. In truth, I supposed they needed it. Cloud was starting to look a bit thin from want of ample grazing and Little Deer was visibly tired. _'All things work together'_, I reminded myself for the hundredth time since the cold rain began.

Little Deer stirred under her warm buffalo robe; turning over in her sleep but not waking up, I smiled as I watched her. In my hand I held her father's journal. To my shame, I hadn't told her about it yet, but in my defense I'd only just finished reading it.

According to its tattered pages; when Ayala was just two years old, Nathanial set out to make his fortune in the vast expanse west of the Mississippi leaving his young family behind in Virginia. Unfortunately, at the time, this land was not a part of the United States, as it still belonged to the Spanish as a result of the Seven Years War. Later Spain would ceeded the teritory back to the Emperor Napoleon from whom we obtained the Louisiana Purchase.

Nathanial returned to Virginia two years later to fetch his family westward to begin a bold new life on the frontier. Their journey, while far from harrowing, wasn't at all easy either. In spite of their difficulties, I did see in the accounts a true pioneer spirit reflected in the little family, a certain joy in their voyage across the unknown, and a steadfast and true love that existed between them.

Thunder rumbled in the distance causing Little Deer to moan and thrash in her sleep. I pushed the journal back into my travel bag before moving to her side. She opened her eyes sleepily, searching for the security of my presence.

"Rest easy child," I assured her softly. "Go back to sleep, we'll not be traveling tonight."

******

The weather eventually cleared and we moved on, finally finding and then following the mighty Missouri River. Early on, we didn't encounter the heavy river traffic that I had expected. After two weeks however, I began to notice keelboats tied along the opposite shore as we trudged along during the dark hours. The ruckus of gruff voices raised in rancorous drinking songs made Little Deer terribly nervous.

Tonight, as we passed by a barge moored on our side of the river, I was cautious. The nasally whine of the concertina accompanying a boisterous song in French filled the night air. I heard the leather saddle under Little Deer creak as she tensed; the bitter back note of fear suddenly infused her personal aroma. We were well hidden by the trees as we drew nearer to the boat and I had every confidence that our passing would go unnoticed.

"Steady on, child," I whispered softly even as I gave her arm a reassuring pat. "There's no moon tonight, they can't see us."

I should have been paying more attention to my sister's growing anxiety, I should have held tighter to Cloud's lead rope, instead I found myself distracted; listening to the men conversing on the barge. Suddenly, Little Deer's nervousness got the better of her; she panicked at the sound of the rowdy men so near to us. Without warning she gave Cloud a solid kick with her heels, causing the horse to scream and sending him careening past me into the darkness.

I was caught off guard by the ensuing chain of chaotic events. The scream of the horse and the pounding of hoof beats roused the drunken men into action. Assuming that they were under attack by hostile Natives, they armed themselves and a volley of musket fire rang through the still night air. Most of the shots thudded harmlessly into the trunks and branches of innocent trees, but I distinctly heard a sickening wet splat as at least one round meet mortal flesh. I would have been contented to assume that one of the boatmen had inadvertently shot an animal of some sort, until my sister's faint cry filled my sensitive ears. This was followed moments later by the rich metallic scent of human blood being carried to me on an errant stirring of the wind.

I launched myself into the night, chasing after Little Deer and Cloud. I caught up to them a mile and a half later, my sister was teetering in the saddle; her ever faithful horse instinctively slowed his pace because of this . . . he was indeed _a good horse_.

"Have you gone mad?" I hissed angrily as I came up beside them and took hold of Cloud's reins. "You very nearly got yourself killed back there and exposed me in the process! Have you any idea what manor of debauchery I would have been forced to engage in had any of those men seen me?!"

She looked down from her perch; abject fear lingered in her eyes even as deep hurt well up to join it. I had spoken more harshly than I intended, my own fear getting the better of me. It was then that I noticed the stream of sticky blood trailing down her arm and dripping into a pool at my feet.

"You're injured," I insisted in a calmer tone as I led Cloud towards a nearby tree. "Let's get you down so that I can examine you."

Little Deer had other ideas and before I could say or do more, she spurred her horse forward with another firm kick of her heels. I stood there, stunned as I watched them gallop of into the darkness; my sensitive ears easily picked up the sound of my sister's sobs.

"It seems I cannot win for loosing these days." I muttered as I trotted off after them.

I followed Little Deer's trail, but I stayed well back in an attempt to give my sister a bit of space in which to collect herself. When I finally caught up to her, she was stopped near a small stream giving Cloud a much needed rest. She tensed at the sight of me and I instantly stood still. When I saw her relax again, I continued my approach with care. As I drew nearer I noticed her right hand clamped over the top of her left arm and, even in the darkness, I could plainly see the pain that twisted her features.

"Perhaps you should let me have a look at that?" I gestured towards her obvious injury.

She fixed me with her soul searching gaze for the span of several heartbeats before nodding. Though I knew her continued fear wasn't earnestly aimed at me, I approached her with caution just the same.

"Why don't you sit?" I guided her towards a fallen tree and seated her gently on its massive trunk. With her settled, I turned to probing the injury deftly with my fingers, searching for any sing that the musket ball might still be lodged in her flesh.

"_Do you not need a fire so that you may see?"_ she whispered even as she winced and took in a jagged breath. Fear still suffused her personal scent, but the acid back note wasn't nearly as strong as before. She was beginning to cal down, a process I wished to encourage.

"I'm sorry if this hurts," I apologized softly before I addressed her inquiry. "And in answer to your question; no, my eyesight is such that I can see in utter darkness as well as if it were noonday." I couldn't explain my visual acuity to her in any better terms than that.

Satisfied with my findings, I stood and went to fetch a few meager supplies from Cloud's saddle bags. The bullet only grazed her arm; the wound would need to be cleaned and bandaged, but no further intervention was required. I returned with rags for bandages and the jug of rum to clean the injury with. I preferred to use water when cleaning wounds, but that would necessitate a fire in order to boil the liquid and rid it of impurities. As close as we were to the angry men and their keelboat, even a small fire was out of the question.

"This may sting a bit," I warned her before dabbing the rum soaked rag against her wounded arm. She flinched slightly and I heard a painful hisses escape between her gritted teeth; otherwise she was compliant.

"Why did you run like that Ayala?" I inquired delicately as I bandaged her arm. "I realize that our close proximity to the boatmen unnerved you, but, had you remained calm, we would have bypassed them without incident."

"_The song they were singing,"_ she began shyly. _"It reminded me of Jack and_ _Henry . . . they used to sing it when they got drunk_." She dropped her gaze then and continued. _"I would not speak of the things that followed."_

Unfortunately, she didn't have too; I could easily imagine the horrors she alluded to. I found it quite infuriating that certain males among the human species took great delight in inflicting pain on hapless women. With much effort, I managed to repress an angry growl.

"I understand that child," I assured her when the wave of irritation passed. "Your suffering at the hands of those two foul brutes was monumental, to be sure. But you must keep in mind, Jack is dead and his wicked brother Henry is miles and miles behind us." I paused and then added, "You're safe Little Deer, when will you realize that . . . and except it."

"_I am young, Panther Eyes, but I am no fool,"_ She insisted plainly. _"The Savoy's are not the only foul brutes in the world. Did you not say yourself that not all Sky Beings are kind and helpful . . . so it is with men also?"_

"Well spoken, child, and sadly that is true," I admitted as I helped her up and guided her back to her horse. "However, not all men are evil. While I would universally advise caution when dealing with strangers, I think you would be ill-served to assume all men to be your enemies."

She turned then and fixed me with her fiery emerald eyes. When she spoke there was determination in her whispered words. _"I will not be hurt again; I will not let others ill-treat me. I am Little Deer of the Sioux, and I am no man's dog!"_

"I know that," I replied as I caught her gently by the shoulders. "I know it, I understand it, and I agree with you." My mind was a swirling mass of thoughts and I couldn't seem to still them long enough to express my true motives. But then, I remembered the first time we encounter White Stag together and our subsequent conversation. Enlightenment dawned upon me in that moment with a force such as I had not known before and I knew precisely what must be said.

"Do you recall the day you told me about your first night in the woman's lodge?" I asked gently, she had never been wholly comfortable when it came to speaking about the Great Mystery. When she nodded I continued, "You told me that White Stage came to you and told you he would be your guardian, that the Creator was seeking a suitable 'Keeper' for you." She nodded again. This time I tipped her chin up with my hand so that her emerald eyes met my golden ones. "Little Deer, _I am that Keeper_ . . . the one sent to look after you, to protect you, to help you in your journey towards whatever scared purpose the Creator has for you.

"You needn't ever fear, I'll not let harm come to you . . . and any that might try shall know the perfection of my wrath." Then I repeated my revelation more fervently to her, as I wanted her to hear it with the ears of her heart and know its truth. "I am your Keeper, Little Deer; the one Whit Stage told you would come, the one that the Creator promised to you."

******

A full week had passed since the keelboat incident and, as the first grayness of dawn tinged the eastern horizon, my company and I came upon a ferry crossing. On the far bank I could make out the boatman squat little cabin. Below his modest home the broad sturdy little raft he plied back and forth across the muddy waters of the channel was securely moored to the dock.

According to my readings, the Missouri was a deceptively peaceful waterway. Beneath its apparent tranquil surface; fierce undercurrents ebbed and swirled carrying with it dangerous flotsam and jetsam. To swim the English Channel had been no trouble at all for me; I doubted that I would have any difficulty at all crossing this narrow ribbon of water. Ayala and Cloud, however, might find the crossing treacherous and perhaps even fatal. My mind was made, as the morning was a cloudy one we would cross by the ferry before finding a campsite for the day.

I led Cloud down the muddy bank to the water's edge. Being the good horse that he was he picked his footing with care, so as not to slip and spill his rider. At the bottom of the embankment I found a brass ship's bell mounted on a stout pole. A sign below the bell read:_ Ring for Ferry_. I gave the bell three sound clangs to alert the boatman on the opposite shore of our need.

"_Carlisle,"_ My sister's whisper danced in my ears. _"What is this place? Will we not find shelter for the day?" _Worry echoed in every word she spoke.

"We must cross the river," I insisted gently as I turned to meet her gaze. Instantly fear clouded her features. "Steady on now, my child. I am well aware that you cannot swim," I paused and took her hand lightly in mine. "That is why I have summoned the ferryman, he will take us across."

A shout rose up from the opposite bank and I turned to find the ferryman waving to us and so I waved back.

"Be right with you folks." He called to us as he readied to cast off from the dock, his voice carried clear and strong across the water.

"_I do not like this."_ Ayala insisted, her suspicious eyes not leaving the raft that was slowly making its way towards us. _"Does the river not get shallow further down . . . where we might walk across?"_

"No, it gets wider and deeper the further south we travel." I informed her plainly. The ferry was half way to us now and getting closed by the second as the brawny boatman heaved away on the haul line. "There's nothing to fear, it's perfectly safe." Though she didn't reply, she continued to give me a doubtful look.

"Morrnin' to yeh," The ferryman greeted us as he arrived and secured the mooring line.

"Good morning to you as well, sir," I replied politely.

He looked up from tying his knots to inspect us more deliberately. First he scrutinized me; eyeing me up and down as if I were a horse he might be interested in purchasing. Then he turned his uncompromising gaze to my sister; poor Little Deer wilted under his glare like a drought stricken garden.

"Excuse me, sir," I interrupted in an effort to draw his attention away from Little Deer. "How much to cross the ferry?"

"Two bits for you and your squaw, four bits for the horse," he grumped.

"Ayala is not my _squaw_, sir, she is my sister." An indignant growl rumbled forth as I said this. The ferryman only shrugged his shoulders in response and went back to his work.

Once Charon was paid his dues I preceded to load Cloud onto the floating platform. The amiable gelding went along without complaint, and I quickly had him secured for the passage across . . . not so his mistress. Ayala stood at the edge of the raft and tested it with one cautious foot. When the deck gave slightly under her applied weight, she pulled back her foot and shook her head vehemently. I could see the fear in her eyes and knew this was going to be not only a test of wills between us, but also a test of the bond of our trust.

"Come now, Ayala," I encouraged as I held my hand out towards her. "It's perfectly safe, I assure you."

She raised one skeptical eyebrow and crossed her arms over her chest but otherwise, she didn't budge. She was going to be stubborn, which necessitated that I be both reassuring and highly convincing. As in all matters, Ayala's compliance was not a thing that could be forced.

I spoke in the softest of tones as I approached her, "The sound logic of your senses tells you that the raft isn't safe, yes?"

She nodded as she watched me, but not a single whispered word escaped her.

"I see," I agreed with her observation. "Were it not for my own vast experience with every manor of ship, boat, and barge . . . I would likely agree with you."

A questioning furrow creased her brow denoting that she wasn't as sure of her own opinion as she was before; I was making headway at swaying her and this pleased me.

"Once again, I insist to you that this ferry is quite safe," I reiterated. "In support of my claim, I humbly submit, for your consideration, the calm and excepting demeanor of our good friend Cloud. It is well know that the horse is a skittish beast with a nose for detecting danger and an iron will when it comes to avoiding it. Yet there he stands, contented as a baby in its mother's arms, waiting for us to proceed. Were this barge unsafe, dear sister, I assure you, Cloud would be the first to alert us to the danger."

I watched and waited as she considered my argument. Hopefully she would except my artfully crafted oration and board the ferry without further delay. Just in case, however, my mind had already formulated several very convincing rebuttals. She continued to stare at me for the span of a dozen heartbeats before she motioned for me to approach her. I came near and leaned in close so that she could whisper in my ear. This was unnecessary of course, but there was no sense in either of us tipping off the grumpy ferryman to our secrets.

"_I cannot swim."_ She insisted and I could hear the almost pleading tone in her whisper. _"What if I fall in, the angry river spirits will devour my soul and I will never join my father and mother in the Sky World."_

I stepped back so that I could look into her eyes as I brushed her cheek lightly with the back of my knuckles. "First of all, this craft is quite sturdy and you won't fall in." I paused and sighed, "But, even if by some unforeseen calamity, you did end up in the water . . . do you honestly think that I would stand idly by and watch as you drown." I cupped her face in my palm then and fixed her with my most earnest gaze, "I am my sister's Keeper, Ayala, and I take that role very seriously . . . were you in danger, I would do everything within my power to save you."

I took two steps back from her then an offered my hand to her, she hesitated only a moment longer before she took it and stepped onto the ferry's deck. Though she was trembling and still scared, she was demonstrating both her courage and her trust in me.

The ferryman pushed off from the bank and we began our slow progress across the muddy waters. The raft creaked and groaned causing my sister to through her arms around me, clinging to me as if her life depended on it.

In response I wrapped my arm around her and whispered my encouragement to her. "Good heavens, child, please relax. This will all be over and done before you know it."

I was right. Mercifully, the trip across the river was a short one and we were soon docked safely on the opposite shore.

"Well done, Ayala," I whispered to her as the ferryman tied off the raft. "Well done indeed, I'm very proud of you. Now let us be on our way."

I didn't have to insist twice. No sooner had the ferry been securely moored, than Ayala practically leapt onto the bank. I couldn't help laughing at her exuberance; she was most defiantly a _land lover_.


	15. Chapter 15

**Note:** I do not own or have rights to Twilight or its characters!!!

_I wasn't intending to post again on this story until next week, but I needed a distraction after having a bad day yesterday, so you guys benifit in the form of a nice short little chapter. _

_Enjoy!!_

**

Chapter 15

**The Art of Deception**

According to the ferryman, a half day's journey south of his crossing was a small fort complete with a trading post. The rustic boatman had testified that everything necessary for human travel and survival in the wilderness could be acquired there. I set our course south along the river, towards the outpost. The supplies I'd acquired for Ayala at the beginning of our journey were dwindling and St. Louis was still many weeks journey ahead of us. We needed to restock.

Near mid-morning we found a suitable campsite. It was none too soon as Ayala had been periodically dozing in the saddle ever since we left the ferry crossing. She was almost too tired to eat, but I managed to get a bowl of corn gruel down her before she settled in her bed.

"_Are we going to the fort?"_ She inquired with a yawn as she snuggled under her robes.

"Yes," I answered without looking up from the medical text I was reading. Honesty, whenever possible, was always the best course with Ayala. She had an eerie sixth sense when it came to my attempts at deception.

"_Why?"_ Sleep was thick in her voice and I wondered if she would remain awake to hear the answer.

"Because we are in dire need of supplies," I decided to keep my answer as brief as possible. "Only just this morning you finished off the last of the corn meal. It is a necessary stop."

I ventured a glance at her; only her head poked out from under the thick wooly buffalo hide as she regarded me sourly. Her expression gave me ample warning that another test of wills would soon ensue. My sister had the most loving disposition of any human I'd ever known, but, running straight down the center of her affectionate demeanor, was a stubborn streak that would make an angry badger look like a lap dog.

"_I do not think . . ."_

"Enough, Ayala," I sighed as I cut her off. Thirst burned in my throat and I was not in the mood to hear her protests. "Your exhaustion is evident. Go to sleep now, we will discuss this matter further after you've rested." _And after I've hunted_, I mused. Thirst made me testy and I couldn't afford to be short tempered when dealing with my sister's intractable spirit.

******

I made a few final adjustments to the buttons of my waistcoat and then my hands, seeking something to occupy them further, began fussing with my neckcloth. I was still astounded at how well the clothes Iann acquired for us fit; a private tailor could not have done better. With a satisfied sigh I donned my frock coat before turning towards the trees where Little Deer had disappeared.

While I dressed in the small clearing where we made our camp, Little Deer, for modesties sake, had drifted into the dense cover of the trees to change her clothes. She was not at all pleased when I insisted that we attire ourselves in eastern dress for our visit to the fort. In truth, I myself would have preferred to remain in my breeches and the deer hide shirt she'd made for me. It was by far the most comfortable outfit I'd ever worn.

For the sake of a good performance, however, certain sacrifices had to be made. I learned that lesson all to well at the ferry crossing; I did not wish another soul to mistake my beloved sister for my _squaw_. To give further credence to our ruse, I'd spent the day concocting a feasible story to go along with our claim of kinship:

_My father was a prominent Virginia surgeon. Like any dutiful son, I'd followed in his monumental footsteps and become a physician as well. My mother died when I was four; my father took Ayala's mother to wife two years later. When I was eight, my darling little sister was born, completing our family. _

I'd even given consideration to Ayala's inability to speak; _as a precocious age of five, she was running through our Virginia home with a crumb encrusted cake knife she pilfered from the kitchen in her mouth. She tripped on a rug in the hallway and fell; the knife severed her tongue almost completely off. Unable to repair the extensive damage, my father was forced to complete the amputation; only barely managing to save her life. _

"_Deception come entirely too easily to you,"_ my inner voice hissed.

"Indeed, and it's a good thing too, as it is deception that has kept me in existence all these many decades." I replied curtly and then I turned my attention to my long absent sister. "Ayala," I call after her and then listened intently for her response. Nothing but the gently stirring of the afternoon breeze answered me.

"Oh, come now," I soothed, "I know that you're irritated with having to wear the dress, but to ignore me on account of it . . . I am thoroughly wounded."

Still only silence counseled me and I was starting to become concerned. I called her name again as I took several strides towards the stand of trees she disappeared into. Before I could reach the tree line, however, the sound of snapping twigs reached my ears followed shortly thereafter by Ayala's appearance in the clearing.

I couldn't help my smile; she was a vision wrapped in forest green cotton. Unfortunately, only I and perhaps God himself were smiling. My sister wore an expression of disgust ordinarily held in reserve for the foulest forms blasphemy. For some reason I found the look amusing and chuckled lightly as she approached. Her disgusted look turned instantly into a white hot glare as she regarded me.

"_I look silly,"_ she hissed. _"I hate this . . . thing!"_

"You _do not_ look silly." I insisted in a firm yet gentle tone. "To the contrary, you're quite attractive in that outfit . . . stunning actually." I appraised her more carefully then, and realized just _how_ attractive she truly was . . . for a human. "In fact, I'm going to have to keep a very keen eye on you when we reach the fort. Else wise, some roughish solider or frontiersman might get the notion that he can take liberties with you."

At my remark, a deep growl rumbled in her throat, catching me off guard. _"I am no man's dog!"_ Her ardent hiss escaped through gritted teeth.

"Simmer down," I cooed as I patted her shoulder. "I only meant that you are liable to attract attention and to that end I must be vigilant."

"_I said we should not go to the fort,"_ she whispered fiercely.

"I am well aware of you misgivings on the matter," I replied honestly. When I roused her from her sleep earlier in the afternoon, she had let fly with a torrent of reasons against venturing to the fort. "Be that as it may, we have little choice as our supplies are running low."

She frowned at me and I decided words of encouragement were likely in order. "You know, you're much prettier when you smile." She was not, in any way, amused by this and her frown instantly turned into a scowl. I sighed with exasperation. "We won't tarry long; you have my word on it."

******

By twilight we were near the fort, I'd pushed our pace a bit so that we would arrive before the gates closed for the evening. I could see the rustic earthen and log bulwark of the outer walls from our current location. The outpost was larger than the ferryman's description lead me to believe.

"Get down from the horse, Ayala." I instructed, a bit more gruffly that I intended. I wasn't angry with her; in fact our day's sojourn had been peaceful and pleasant. I was _unnerved_ and I didn't know why; it was a condition that I rarely suffered from.

"_He is not tired."_ She replied as she patted Cloud's strong neck.

"I wasn't suggesting that he was," I answered, more mindful of my tone this time. "But you must get down just the same."

She didn't move towards complying with my request and her expression asked, in no uncertain terms, _'why'_. I knew all too well that demanding her obedience was an exercise in futility; I would have to take a more forthcoming approach with her. Suddenly I understood the reason for my ill-ease; eastern society had a more condescending view of the fairer sex . . . a direct contradiction to the cultural views held by the Natives. My poor sister was about to run headlong into a world of male dominance and female subordination; a world I had not explained to her nor in any other way prepared her for.

"In the east, women do not ride . . . astride." I offered in explanation.

Confusion twisted her expression_. "I am not ridding . . . __**a stride**__ . . . I am riding __**a**__**horse**__."_

I chuckled dryly even as I pinched the bridge of my nose in an attempt to calm my growing frustration. It was a habit I'd acquired from my father; as a lad, I had caused him much frustration.

"In the east, women do not ride. . ." my voice trailed off as I considered how to proceed. I pointed to her with a wave of my hand, noting how her dress was hiked above her knees, showing her gracefully shaped calves. "Women do not ride . . . as you are now."

Ayala looked down at herself appraising her condition before turning back to me. I could see that she still didn't understand.

"It is unseemly for a young lady to be seen as you are now," I provided. "It is considered immodest, to show yourself off in such a manor."

"_I am clothed,"_ she frowned.

"Indeed, you are," I nodded as I fumbled with what to say next. To my great relief, however, Little Deer dismounted without any further discourse. I was shocked, but happy none the less.

"_I do not understand, Panther Eyes,"_ She whispered as she pressed Cloud's reins into my palm. _"But you are my brother and I trust you. Perhaps later, when you are calm and your words come more easily to you, you can explain to me why women of the east are forbidden to ride horses." _

She started off on foot towards the fort, leaving me to stand there, dumfounded and watching her.

"_The Creator gave the horse to __**all**__ The People, not just to the silly men."_ she muttered to herself as she marched through the knee high grass. She shook her head as if dismissing some inconceivable notion, _"Besides, everyone knows that the Creator is a woman; only men think otherwise . . . They go about beating their chest like war drums and shouting that they are better and stronger and braver than all others. Grey Mouse was right, let the strongest and bravest among them birth one child . . ."_

"God in Heaven help me," I whispered to myself as I continued to listen to her rambelings, then I started off after her.


	16. Chapter 16

**Note:** I do not own or have rights to Twilight or its characters!!!

_Trig is kicking my tail, I just don't get identities . . . at least the more complex ones anyway. Thank goodness for distractions!_

Chapter 16

**Providence**

I hastily caught up to my sister, who was still muttering to herself as she trudged toward the fort. I felt badly for the surly way I'd been treating her, it wasn't her fault after all. As I was about to speak, she interrupted me; beating me to the punch.

"_I am sorry to make trouble for my brother,"_ she whispered. _"I am frightened and I do not understand, but my brother is kind and knows much,"_ she glanced at me briefly before turning back to watch the ground in front of her_. "Please do not be angry with your sister?"_

My hand found hers and our fingers intertwined. I continued to hold her hand as we walked. "My sister apologizes for that which is not her fault." I began in the same tone she had used. "It is _I_ who is to blame, Little Deer. You were right to insist that we should not be here," I sighed regretfully. "I have taught you to speak English, to read and write, and to dress as the women of the east do, but the most important lessons . . . I have woefully neglected.

"I have given you no instruction whatsoever on the behavior and customs of the people of the east. You do not know what to expect. This is my failing, and one I mean to rectify at our earliest possible convenience."

"_What will we do then?"_

Our pace had slowed but we continued to press on toward the fort that loomed before us. "Stay close to me, follow my lead, and, though this may sound silly, let me do the talking. After we acquire what supplies we need, we'll set out as soon as the gates open it the morning; if providence is with us, we shouldn't encounter too much trouble."

******

We reached the gate just as the soldiers on guard duty there were preparing to close it for the night. The taller of the men noticed our approach and signaled his companion; they waited for us.

"Evening folks," the tall soldier greeted as we drew nearer. "A moment later and you would have spent the night camped out here. We don't open the gated after they're closed, except under Captain's orders."

"Good man, I'm glad to hear that." I paused and then added. "What fort is this by the way, for I fear it is not on my map?"

"Fort Flint, sir," The shorter and much younger solider answered.

"Ah, yes . . . Fort Flint," I repeated with a nod as I lead both Ayala and Cloud forward.

"Uhm, sir," Then the younger soldier stopped us. He took of his hat and bowed slightly to Ayala before continuing to speak. "Mama, uhm, all visitors to the fort must register with the Provost Marshall, and all outside firearms must be checked, tagged, and secured."

"Yes of course, by all means, uhm . . ." I paused, fishing for the young soldier name, he look to be no more that a boy.

"Private First Class, Anthony Wells, sir," he provided proudly.

"And you are?" The tall soldier inquired.

"Dr. Carlisle Cullen," I replied politely. "And this is my sister, Ayala."

"Did you say, _doctor_, sir?" the young private inquired. The look of complete wonder on his face would lead one to think I'd introduced myself as George Washington.

"That is correct," I nodded.

The two soldiers looked at one another, a silent conversation of expressions passing between them. Finally the taller one spoke, "Go fetch the Captain," he told his fellow, before turning back to me. "Captain Sutton will defiantly want to speak with you, sir. In the mean time, if you and the lady would kindly step this way, I'll show you to the Provost office."

By the time we finished registering and stepped out of the tiny Provost Marshall's office, the young private had returned. He was accompanied by a modest looking gentleman whom I would not have guessed to be a commanding officer. Captain Sutton was of average build with close cropped brown hair and a well groomed beard and mustache. It was his hazel eyes that captured my attention, however; concern and sadness filled them to the point of overflow. I could see that this was a man for whom the weight of his office was a millstone about his neck.

"Are you the doctor?" He inquired as he came nearer.

"I am, sir." I acknowledged.

A look of utter relief spread across his face. "My agonizing hours of prayer have finally been answered." He muttered, more to himself than to the rest of us. Then he addressed me directly. "I will not mince words, sir. As Commanding Officer of this fort, I am currently in a predicament and find myself forced to impose upon your professional services. I will engage you, at my own personal expenses if necessary, and compensate you at whatever rate you demand. Presently, I have five men, sick and injured, that require a doctor's care. I would implore you, sir . . . no, implore is not a strong enough term . . . I beseech you, lend them the skill of your hand."

I was at a loss as I turned to glance briefly at Little Deer. Confusion and apprehension were clearly visible in her expression yet total trust danced brightly in her eyes. I had not come to this place to take on patients, but, as with any in my profession, we were expected to be prepared for the call of service, both in and out of season.

"Does your company not have its own surgeon, Captain?" I inquired quietly. It was my experience that most outpost of any size had their own doctor . . . especially the more remote ones.

"Oh, we do indeed have a doctor, sir," the captain laughed, but it was a sad humorless sound. "I am not a man given to slandering those men I serve with, and it embarrasses me deeply to admit this to you, but . . . the man is derelict in his duties. In short, he is a drunkard, Dr. Cullen. The wrenched degenerate maintains a constantan state of inebriation in spite of multiple threats of court-martial and several stents in the stockade.

"I am at a loss, Doctor, as I do not know what more to do. The welfare of the men under my command is my most urgent priority." The captain sighed as he finished his impassioned plea, the slump of his weary shoulders indicating that he was anticipating my refusal.

I looked again to Little Deer, wishing I had time to consult with her in private. She had not wanted to come here and I was well aware that this place made her nervous. The pledges of protection and guardianship that I'd made to her were ever present in the forefront of my mind. Yet I had made another, even older, pledge; I had sworn an oath as weighty as any proclamation of fidelity to God or country. As a physician I had solemnly taken _The Oath of Hippocrates_, Father of the Medical Arts. One line in particular leapt to my mind: _I will apply dietic measures for the benefit of the sick according to my ability and judgment; I will keep them from harm and injustice. _I could not, in good conscience, refuse to render aid to these men and I would have to trust that Ayala would understand.

"If I should agree to take on these men, Captain," I began in a very deliberate manor. "There are a few things which must be made clear. Firstly, you need not trouble yourself with engaging my services at cost of coin . . . I would consider it my civic as well as professional duty to attend to these ill and wounded soldiers of my country.

"Secondly, I fear that I must now impose upon you. During the course of our travels through the wilds, we meet with misfortune and I lost my medical bag and instruments . . ."

"You my use whatever implements the drunken scoundrel has in the Infirmary, sir," the Captain cut me off. "Make thy self to home and if any man gives complaint direct him at once to me."

"Very well then, I will see after your men." My assurance caused a wash of relief to cascade across the Captain's face and he turned to escort me, without further a due, to my charges. "A moment more, if you please, Captain." He turned to me anxiously and I smiled in an effort to reassure him. "One more imposition if you don't mind . . . is there a place where my sister might retire and take her ease while I am occupied with my work."

His anxious look evaporated and for the first time since I'd laid eyes on him, Captain Sutton smiled. He bowed slightly to Little Deer and tipped his hat. "Forgive my rudeness, Madam. This God forsaken corner of Hades is unaccustomed to visits from gentlewomen such as yourself."

Ayala returned the Captain's smile; no one seemed to notice or care that she didn't reply nor did she curtsey as she should have. Still, I would have to introduce the reality of my sister's affliction as it was customary to speak when spoken to. As to the missed grace, I would have to teach her the proper action, and soon.

"Wells," the captain called.

"Yes, sir,"

"Escort the young lady to . . . the Officer's guest quarters," he instructed. "Be sure to lay a fire in the hearth for her and then run down to the mess and see what you can find. . ." he paused and corrected himself. "Belay that last part, Wells, run down to the mess, awaken that lazy excuse for a cook, and tell him _I _said he should prepare a light supper for the doctor's sister. If he gives you any lip, report immediately back to me."

"Right away, sir," young Wells replied with zeal.

"Uhm, Private," I called after the young man. "Do not be alarmed or offended if my sister does not converse with you. She is the victim of a childhood accident which rendered her unable to speak."

The expression on Private Wells' face turned melancholy. "I'm sorry to hear that," he paused and smiled sadly at Ayala, "If the beauty of your voice only half matched the beauty of your countenance, it would have made all the angels of heaven jealous." As soon these words escaped the young man's mouth, a fierce wash of bright crimson flooded his cheeks. "My apologies for being so bold, Madam."

Not knowing exactly what to do Ayala looked at me. I noted a certain softness in her eyes and knew that her feelings were not hurt. "She has taken no offense, Private."

I watched briefly as Ayala followed young Private Wells towards a grouping of long low-roofed cabins. I was confidant she was in good hands and that no harm would come to her. I couldn't help but take notice of the way the Private regarded my sister; by both his demeanor and his words I could tell he was smitten with her. He likely would not be the last young man to gaze upon her in such a way and this realization made me wonder how I would handle a young man's more forward advances. Would I tolerate, for example; an earnest suitor perusing my Ayala.

"This way if you please, Doctor," the Captain's insistent call pulled back from my thought and in to reality.

*****

The conditions I found in the Infirmary were appalling. There were six bunks, three along each wall and five of those were occupied. The room itself was shrouded in darkness and stone cold. I took note of the empty black hearth. While the Captain lit a lamp for me, I made my way to the first bed. The red haired freckle-faced boy who lay in the bunk was delirious with fever and moaning in pain.

"Private Clark," The Captain provided the youth's name in a low whisper as he came to the bed side with the lamp.

The smell of blood, purification, and infection wafted off the youth so strongly that, had I been human, I would have gagged. I gingerly pulled back the grey wool blanket and found the boy's abdomen heavily bandaged, a broad crimson stain soaking through the dingy linen. I looked in horror at the Captain seeking some explanation.

"He was shot in the abdomen three days ago, during a skirmish with hostile Natives," the Captain supplied.

"What treatment has he had, what is he being given for pain?" I inquired indignantly.

"In truth, I do not know, sir." Captain Sutton's voice echoed the same exhausted slouch that held his body. He was a man in the throes of utter defeat. "As I told you, our doctor is intoxicated and unfit for duty. In desperation, I have resorted to having the blacksmith tend these men . . . I have seen him work wonders with many a wounded horse."

I left poor Private Clark and moved to the next bed. I found a new nightmare awaiting me there.

"Corporal Fleet," The Captain intoned as, with growing trepidation, I pulled back the blanket. "A musket ball struck him in the lower leg during the same action in which the Private was injured. Even I can tell the ball has shattered the bones in his leg."

"Sir," the sandy haired Corporal called as his fevered hand grasped my arm. "I heard there was a doctor," his feeble voice inquired hopefully as he fixed me with his gaze.

"That's right son," I whispered; my fingers finding it impossible not to brush the strand of hair away from his eyes. "I'm Dr. Cullen. Rest easy now lad, I'll have you right as rain again in no time." I said it with a smile, but I knew it was a lie.

The young man before me would lose his leg before the night was out and he would be lucky to survive the surgery. I wasn't so optimistic about the prognosis of Private Clark, the musket ball had obviously ruptured his bowels and a serious infection was raging inside his abdomen. There was little I could do for him at this point and he would likely die in the next day or so.

As horrendous as the maladies of my first two patients were, what I found in the next bed chilled my very soul. There was no mistaking the tell tale scent of the cursed disease. I hadn't noticed it before because the heavy scent of infection wafting off the Private and the Corporal had masked it, but now it was unmistakable. I was slightly annoyed that the Captain hadn't mentioned it to me, especially considering the fact that I had Ayala with me. I glared at him hotly.

"Would you have stayed to help my men, had I told you?" he answered my unspoken accusation.

"I might well have stayed in spite of this situation, but I would not have brought my sister into the walls of this camp." Then just to make sure he understood the gravity of things I gave him the grim diagnosis. "This man has small pox."

He nodded and then pointed to the two other beds, "As do Private Thomas and Sergeant Moore. I am truly sorry about your sister, Doctor, but you must understand the desperation of my position."

I decided to ignore his pathetic attempt at apology. "Is there somewhere private where we might talk?"

Wordlessly he led me into a small side room; I instantly recognized the space as the Infirmary's primitive surgery. I was aghast; suddenly the Corporal's chances looked even worse.

"When you meet me, you said that you would not mince word, and so neither shall I," I began in a clearly angry tone. "You stooped to dishonesty, and a play upon my moral duty as a physician to attain my services. I do not appreciate that at all, sir!"

Without giving him a chance to reply I went on. "I hold out no hope at all for Private Clark, there is nothing beyond comfort measure that I can offer him. The Corporal will need to have his leg amputated. For that I will need; at least two assistance to hold the poor man down, some boiled water, whatever instruments your derelict company doctor has to offer, and clean bandages.

"As to the other men, even with my best care, I can give you no guarantees. Small pox is highly infectious and more often than not . . . lethal. If they survive it will be by God's grace and not by my skill.

"I thank you for your honest appraisal." The Captain answered softly when my tirade was over. "You shall have whatever you require. In spite of what rage you might feel towards me, please give these men your best. They're brave lads, and they deserve nothing less."

"I do not let my personal conflicts get in the way of my professionalism," I insisted. "Your men shall have the very best from me, you can rest assured of that."

* * *

**A/N:** Fort Flint is a made up location. If such a place did exist, I have no knowalage of it.


	17. Chapter 17

**Note: **I do not own or have rights to Twilight or its characters!!!!

Chapter 17

**A Battle Between Spirits**

Pale grey light tinged the eastern horizon as I made my way towards the Officer's guest quarters. The smell of cooking filled the cool morning air and the fort was already a buzz with activity. My night had been a difficult one and I was more than happy when the Captain presented me with my relief. He found, among his men, two lads who had survived small pox in their youth; they would serve as my orderlies for the duration. Once I'd given them their instructions, the Captain insisted I retire and rest.

"You were on the trail all day yesterday, sir, and you have spent an entire night tending my men." He presented his argument in a clear logical manor. "I already have one doctor who is inebriated and unfit for duty, I do not need a second one rendered unfit from exhaustion."

If only he knew the truth. If only he knew that I could go on and on and never grow physically tired. But then again, that was only one of many secrets my kind kept from the world of men. And so, feigning a look of weariness, I thanked him for his benevolence and left my patients under the care of my orderlies. Truth be known, I was anxious to check up on my sister. I had left her rather hastily the night before and had been concerned about her all evening.

It was more than just a brother's concern that made me quicken my pace toward grouping of cabins where my sister waited. My shift it Fort Flint's abominable infirmary had been wretched. I watched helplessly as Private Clark lost his battle with infection; his last hours had been peaceful, however, thanks to a measure of laudanum I'd given him. Corporal Fleet was resting comfortably after having his right leg amputated just below the knee. The blacksmith and his apprentice aided me by holding the Corporal down. I was genuinely surprised the youth survived the shock of the operation considering his volume of blood loss and the infection he was already fighting.

As for the men with the pox, I needed to abate their raging fevers if they were to have any hope. To that end, I requested that the Captain send a small detachment of men down the river to collect willow bark. When he asked me to what porous, I explained the use of the bark to make a curative infusion to reduce fevers. I also explained that, while laudanum was customarily used for this porous, because his derelict company surgeon hadn't bothered to order supplies in quite some time, the drug was in short supply. He assured me that he would attend to the matter.

As I approached the door of the small cabin where my sister resided, my predatory senses detected the delightful smell of honeysuckle. Ayala's personal aroma filled the air around the structure causing an instant smile curled my lips. Of course, the implications of such a strong infusion of her scent likely indicated she was distressed about something . . . my long absence and the strange environment she'd been thrust into topped the short list.

'_She isn't the only one who ought to have cause for concern.'_ My inner voice reminded me sharply.

Of course, as usual, it was right. At the moment, I was quite concerned for my sister's safety. An outbreak of small pox was likely emanate and there were only two safe recourses for her; leave the fort, posthaste _or_ . . . the weight of the objects in my coat pocket suddenly intensified tenfold.

I didn't have time to ponder the problem further, the door to the cabin loomed in front of me and I was eager to see my sister. I opened the door and found Ayala seated on a bench in front of the hearth. Immediately she leapt to her feet and joyously bounded towards me. The customary greeting she reserved for me when I'd been away for any length of time was an exuberant hug. I instantly saw the danger in this, as my clothes were likely imbued with small pox.

"Do not touch me!" I barked, halting her in her tracks. Hurt and confusion spread across her face and I added in a softer tone, "Please don't look so dejected, child, I'm not angry with you. I have been with sick men all night and sickness lingers on me."

While she still looked concerned, the confusion and hurt disappeared. Satisfied that she no longer believed I was vexed with her I took off my frock coat and began unbuttoning my waist coat. To my surprise, Little Deer darted through a side door, which I assumed led to the sleeping quarters. When she returned she had my old linen shirt and tan breeches draped across her arm. I smiled warmly at her.

"Thank you, my child. Just put them down there." I nodded toward a nearby low stool. She obediently did as I requested before going back to stand in front of the hearth with her back to me. I hastily changed clothes; folding the pox infested ones neatly and setting them on the stool in the far corner. Before leaving the pile I retrieved one of the two objects from the pocket of my frock coat.

"I'm done now," I whispered. She slowly turned to face me, uncertainty danced in her expressive green eyes. I could stand the tension no longer; I opened my arms in welcome to her and whispered, "Come then, and greet your brother."

She flew to me, throwing her arms around me and hugging me fiercely. I returned her exuberant embrace; resting my cheek in the soft brown silk at the crown of her head even as my arms encircled her. I hadn't realized until that moment just how much I missed her, how much I'd worried about her, and how much I truly enjoyed her overt displays of affection.

"Are you alright, did the Private treat you well?" I asked, using the inquiry as an excuse to break the embrace. She nodded as she reluctantly released me. "That's very good." I wasn't sure how I would have reacted if she had answered no.

"_You look tiered . . . or sad,"_ she observed before returning to her place by the fire. _"And your eyes are almost as black as Brother Owl's."_

"I am both tired and sad," I replied honestly, _and thirsty too_ I mused. I took a seat in the only armchair by the hearth; Ayala had returned to her bench. "It was a difficult night for me. I watched helplessly as one man died, I was forced to amputate another's leg, and as for the other three . . . well," I sighed dismissively as I allowed the words and the thought to trail off.

"_Will they die as well?" _

I considered her question carefully. All night long, in a deep corner of my vast mind, I had pondered how best to break the news about the pox to her. I had also considered how I might explain my bold plan to protect her from the foul disease. Suddenly I was all too aware of the cool glass object that I clutched in my right hand.

"I cannot say whether they will live or die, that is for the Creator to decide," I paused for a moment as I considered my words. "The only thing that I am sure of is that very soon, even more men will sick."

"_How do you know this, did Thunder Man tell you?"_ I watched her eyes widen with fear and wonder.

I shook my head, "No." I allowed a serious expression to frame my features but I kept my tone soft and reassuring as I continued. "Little Deer are you familiar with or have you ever heard of . . . small pox?"

I heard her take in a startled breath even as she nodded. _"My father said that during the Great War between the French and the Redcoats, the Redcoats pretended to be our friends and gave blanket to the People that were possessed by the spirit of the small pox. Many got sick and died."_

"That is true, it was a terrible injustice." I replied sadly and then continued, "The three men who are sick . . . they have small pox."

Fear blanched her features and I heard her heart quicken its pace. _"We must leave Panther Eyes,"_ She insisted as she got up from her seat. _"I will pack our things and get Cloud ready."_

I caught her gently by the arm as she passed my chair, "Wait," I whispered softly. Her eyes begged me to release her, begged me to help her pack our thing and flee, but I couldn't. It would be an unconscionable act to leave these men without aid or recourse. "I know you're frightened, and with good reason, but I would implore you to hear me out first." I nodded towards her bench and added, "Have a seat please."

After several seconds she reluctantly returned to her seat. The room went eerily silent as I considered how best to proceed; only the sound of Little Deer's breathing and the crackle of the fire in the hearth interrupted the quiet. I would have to be judicious in my explanation if I wished to garner her trust and acceptance.

"There is a way, other than evacuation, by which I can protect you from the pox." I told her, my voice sounding entirely too loud in the stillness of the room. "It is not without risks, but I have seen it work with resounding success and if I did not believe in it wholeheartedly I wouldn't conceive of suggesting it to you." Then I held up the tightly corked glass bottle that I held concealed in my right hand.

"_What is that?"_ She inquired nervously as she pointed to the bottle.

"In this bottle is . . ." I paused as I looked at the pinkish white gore which I had gingerly collected from one of Private Thomas's sores before leaving the infirmary. I had no words with which to explain to her exactly what the vial contained . . . at least no words that she would understand. Then I remembered what she's said earlier about the British blankets and an entirely new course of persuasion filled my mind. I began again, "In this bottle is . . . the spirit of small pox."

She gasped and nearly tripped over her bench in an effort to get as far away from me as possible, the only force stopping her escape was the thick cabin wall. _"You claim not to be a Shaman," _she stammered, fear clinging to each whispered word. _"Yet you capture evil spirits and hold them captive in bottles . . . and speak about it as if it is only water from a stream. Panther Eyes, Son of Thunder Man, has very strong magic . . . magic that makes Little Deer afraid."_

I was startled by her reaction, it wasn't what I intended. In fact she was so unnerved by my revelation that she'd spoken the last sentence completely in Sioux. I had to calm her down and recover the situation if I wanted to make an appeal for my plan to her rational mind.

"Please do not fear, child, as I would never cause harm to come to you," I insisted gently. "It is not magic, Little Deer; it is the healer's art . . . knowledge not magic."

"_You know how to catch evil spirits and confine them in bottles_," she insisted as she pointed at me, but this time there was less conviction in her voice. _"And yet you dismiss your power. I do not understand this."_

"I realize that I'm asking a lot of you, child, but you must trust me . . . this is not magic and I know full well what I'm doing." I soothed. "Will you sit down please, and hear my plan?"

She did as I requested and I was relieved. It did not escape me that my sister's willingness to listen to my plan, indeed, her willingness to remain in the same room with the bottled pox spirit, was a testimony to the confidence and affection she held for me.

I would not betray that confidence and affection.

"There is a way in which I can use this bottled pox spirit to protect you from the lethal effects of the illness," I repeated my earlier assertion again in the most reassuring tone I could manage. "But given you reaction thus far I can already tell that you're not going to be wholly appreciative of it."

She regarded me skeptically, crossing her arm and scowling at me. _"How?"_

"The process is call inoculation." I sighed and, even before the questioning look spread across my sister's face, I knew a more detailed explanation would be required. Again I was at a loss for adequate words to relate a complex medical topic to her in a way that she would understand.

Once again, however, it was Ayala's own words that came to my rescue. Night and day for five gloomy cold months we hunkered together in that tiny cabin. Yes, I had tutored her in academic lessons to pass the long hours, but she had also tutored me with the oral traditions of her people. I would now put to good use all that I had learned.

"The Sioux are a proud and noble People, honorable and brave in battle." I began. "Old and young, men and women; with in every member of the tribe beats the yearning heart of the warrior . . . un-corruptible and unconquered. The steady thrum of the Sioux heart is the rhythmic pulse of the war drum. If an enemy rises up against you and threatens you with destruction The Sioux rise up to meet them, head on, with courage and determination."

I watched her posture straighten and noted the hint of emerald fire that lit her green eyes. Pride in her heritage and her people made her chest swell. I was counting on that inner fire, that warrior's heart, to spur her to rise to the challenge I was about to place before her.

"In order to defeat the spirit of the small pox you must fight it with your own spirit," I explained. "Once your spirit has defeated the small pox spirit, then the pox can never hurt you or make you sick ever again."

I thought my argument was thorough and convincing; Little Deer thought otherwise. _"How will my spirit fight the pox spirit, is inoculation another name for war. Will you give me the sacred mushroom so that my spirit my fly free from my body and wage war on the pox spirit?"_

Oh dear, I thought as I shook my head. Why had I assumed that this would be a simple matter, Little Deer had a mind as sharp as any surgeon's scalpel. "No, child, there will be no need for sacred mushroom. Your spirit will do battle with the pox spirit inside your body . . . where it has an advantage. Inoculation is the process by which I introduce the pox spirit into your blood; this is where your spirit lives and thrives, and where it is strongest.

"I will make a small cut, here in your arm," I touched the place on my own arm where I intended to make the incision. "And then I will take some of the pox spirit from the bottle and introduce it into the cut. It is a simple process, and only hurts a little."

"_Will this not make me sick?"_ She asked still looking skeptical.

"Battles are not fought and won without effort, Little Deer," I reminded her. "If your spirit is very strong; stronger than that of the pox spirit then the battle will be over quickly and there is a good chance that you will not become sick at all. If your spirit and the pox spirit are evenly matched, the battle will take longer and you may become slightly ill. If the pox spirit is stronger than your spirit; the battle will take much longer and it will be very taxing on you and you will likely become quite ill, but in the end you should emerge victorious."

"_But, would not the pox spirit kill me, if it is stronger than my spirit?"_ Skeptical, in her demeanor, was now replaced by thoughtfulness. I was beginning to get through to her.

"Not necessarily," This was the whole crux of the inoculation issue and I had to make my point to her in the most convincing manor possible. "If you encounter the pox spirit . . . _in the wild_ as in the case of the People and the Redcoat blankets, death would be a very likely outcome. Introduction of the pox spirit through inoculation reduces the spirits potency and therefore decreases the risk of death." I paused and the added in clarification, "In other words, the pox spirit is made weaker this way and gives your spirit the advantaged in battle."

"_How do you know that I will win?"_ she asked. I could tell she was beginning to come about.

"You are young and strong, Little Deer, and you have the heart of a warrior," I encouraged. "Your inner spirit is also strong, you will be victorious . . . I would not suggest this course of action if I thought otherwise." I paused for the span of several of Little Deer's heartbeats before asking her the final, fateful, question, "Will you let me inoculate you, Little Deer; will you accept the challenge and meet the small pox. . . in a battle between spirits?"

The room went utterly still as my sister considered my proposal. I watched with increasing trepidation as an army of emotions dances across her features; a few of them pausing to linger in the depths of her jade eyes. Of course I did have a contingency plan; if she refused inoculation, I would have to strictly control her movement and what contacts she might have. She wouldn't much appreciate being confined to the cabin until the danger passed. Similarly, she would not like the fact that, due to my direct contact with the ill, I would have to severely curtail my time spent with her. In truth, these were not options that I would likely appreciate either.

Suddenly I was aware the Little Deer was walking past me, I had been so engrossed with my own thoughts that I didn't notice her get up. I caught her lightly by the sleeve of her dress and looked up to meet her gaze; I didn't quite recognize the emotion that I saw there.

"Ayala?" I inquired softly.

"_I will return."_ She insisted as her gaze dropped to where my hand still held her.

Reluctantly, I released her and listened as she disappeared into the bedroom. A few minutes later she was standing beside me again; about her neck she wore her mother's locket as well as a small hide pouch on a long leather thong. I instantly recognized the latter as her medicine pouch. I had asked her to remove both items from her person and hide them among her belongings as we approached the fort.

"_If I am to fight a spirit battle,"_ she whispered, _"then my spirit woman should have spirit allies to help in the fight."_ Her hand went to the gold locket, _"My ancestors in the Sky World will help me,"_ and then her hand moved to the hide pouch, _"As will White Stage."_

In spite of a strong Christian upbringing, I had never been one to frown on the beliefs of others. If things went badly, she would indeed require all necessary aid in order to recover and who was I to deny her that aid . . . no matter what form it might come in. I nodded as I stood slowly.

"Ayala," I began as I took her gently by the shoulders, but then I realized that the address was much too formal for the occasion. "Little Deer, does this mean that you will allow me to inoculate you?"

"_Yes, Panther Eyes, but only because you asked me to do this thing,"_ her whispered voice rang clearly with determination. _"If any other shaman, Sky Being, or healer, asked such a thing of me I would refuse. The Creator sent you to be my Keeper, White Stage approves of you, and you are my brother . . . so, thought I am still afraid, I will trust you." _

"Thank you, Little Deer," I was elated at her response and couldn't help wrapping her in my embrace. As a physician I was unaccustomed to patients questioning my medical judgment. To anyone else I would have presented inoculation as a course of treatment and expected compliance. Yet I found it all the more wonderful and fulfilling to have a patient, especially my Ayala, choose to accept my medical judgment . . . to have her choose to trust me.

* * *

**Historical Note:**

**1)** It is a fact that during the French and Indian War, aka the Seven Years War, The British army did give small pox infested blankets to the Native Americans. It was not a massive campaign, but it represents a primitive attempt at biological warfare meant to decimate the native population who tended to side with the French.

**2)** Inoculation against small pox, while still crude, was indeed a valid medical practice preformed by physicians in the late 17 and early 18 hundreds. It was a highly controversial procedure as patients still became ill with the pox, but the death rate among inoculated patients was sharply reduced.

In fact General George Washington was so impressed with this practice and so desperate to rid his army of the devastating disease that, in early 1777, he ordered the mass inoculation of the entire Continental Army.

We just finished studying the French an Indian War and the American Revolution in history class and I took a test on it yesterday. Blueroan loves history and science!


	18. Chapter 18

**Note:** I do not own or have rights to Twilight or its characters!!!

Chapter 18

**Temperance**

Four days had passed since our arrival at the fort. Corporal Fleet was satisfactorily recovering from his surgery; he was awake now but still running a fever and in a considerable degree of pain. I was endeavoring to hold most of my precious laudanum supply in reserve for his use. The brief span of time also brought a bloom in the number of pox cases; up from a mere three to an astounding eight. I had extra beds moved into the tiny infirmary's ward. I wasn't sure where I would put the threatening tide of sick men that I suspected would soon swamp me. As it was, my patients were stacked side by side like logs on a wood pile.

And then, of course, when the inevitable flood came, how would I manage to tend them all with only two orderlies to assist me. Managing the load by myself would be a simple enough matter, if I weren't trying to maintain the secret of my existent. It wouldn't do for me to rush around the infirmary at inhuman speed as I flitted from patient to patient. An extra set of skilled hands was defiantly required . . . and I had a good idea as to where to find them.

"Private Wells," I called to the young man as I made my way across the parade grounds. Ayala was waiting for me at the cabin; unfortunately she would have to wait a bit longer. "A word if you please."

"Dr. Cullen," he bowed slightly as he spoke. I was rather surprised that he didn't solute me out habit. "How can I be of service?"

"I keep hearing about this perpetually intoxicated company surgeon of yours," I began my inquiry. "What is his name and where might I find him?"

"Dr. Montgomery is the pathetic lush's name." Private Wells informed me curtly; he made no attempt to hide his disdain. "His quarters are there," he pointed to a cabin adjacent to the infirmary. "If he's not in there, you'll likely find the old sot down at the trading post . . . acquiring fresh supplies, if you get my meaning."

"Thank you, Private," I inclined my head slightly as I said this. Then a thought occurred to me. "I'm going to pay a call on the 'good doctor'; do you think you could manage to wrangle a pot of stout coffee from the kitchen and bring it to the doctor's quarters."

A wicked smile spread across the Private's face as he replied, "I'll tell the cook to make it extra strong, sir."

I watched the Private trot off toward the mess hall before turning and striding porousfuly towards the doctor's cabin. It was high time someone took this situation in hand. I knocked lightly on the door and wasn't surprised when there was no response. Yet my predatory hearing easily detected the sound of breathing and the thrum of a heartbeat on the other side of the door. I forced the lock and entered.

The first thing I noticed was the stench; a mixture of unwashed human, urine, tobacco, and of course alcohol. The conditions inside the cabin were deplorable with empty whisky jugs, cigar butts, rubbish, and unlaundered clothes strung everywhere. If the man was as far gone as his surrounding, then there might not be any hope for his redemption after all.

"Who's there?" a slurred voice inquired. I had inadvertently tipped an empty jug with the toe of my boot, rousing the whisky soused Dr. Montgomery to speak. "Is that you Sutton . . ." A fit of coughing and wheezing sized the doctor, after several moments it finally settled, allowing him to speak again. "Sutton, if you've come to threaten me with court martial again . . ."

"I am not the Captain." I replied in a soft yet stern voice.

The darkened room was not an impediment to my visual acuity, in the far corner of the room I watched as what seemed to be a mound of unwashed clothes began to move and quake. Suddenly an arm appeared from under the pile and then a leg; eventually a head emerged. The entire pile tumbled to the floor in a cascade of soiled shirts, breeches, and stockings finally revealing the disheveled Dr. Montgomery in all his iniquitous glory.

The Doctor blinked several times before focusing his bleary and bloodshot eyes on me. He squinted as he appraised me and then he huffed rather loudly before grouping through the remaining articles on the bed with one chubby hand. A smile spread across his dirty face when his hand found what it sought; the brown earthenware jug that contained his favorite elixir.

He uncorked the jug and took a hearty swig before addressing me. "Who the devil are you?" he grumped.

"Dr. Montgomery, I presume?" I inquired as I wanted to be certain that this man was indeed, the doctor in question.

He waved his hand in dismissal. "I know quite well who I am, sir. I asked; _who the devil are you."_

"I am Dr. Cullen, sir." I replied curtly. The man's disgraceful state and lack of professionalism stirred my ire.

The man began to laugh. When his mirth subsided he took another long swallow from the jug and then wiped his mouth with his filthy shirt sleeve. "Sutton finally convinced central command to send out a replacement for me . . . about time too, I . . ."

"I am not your replacement," I cut him off abruptly. "I am a private citizen and physician passing through these wild lands on my own business. Your captain imposed upon me to render medical aid to his men . . . men that are under your charge, sir."

"I hope he paid you well," was all that the miscreant had to say before turning the jug up again.

My rage was a seething inferno within me, and I all but trembling with it. The practice of medicine was a sacred trust between the practitioner and the patient; the man before me wantonly violated that trust on every account. It was all I could do to keep from snatching him up and giving him a sound thrashing. I pinched the bridge of my nose as I took several deep cleansing breaths.

From the corner of my eye I saw him raise the jug again, to take another swig of its infernal contents. I had always considered myself to be a temperance man, a disciple in this doctruine as espoused by my college in good standing, Dr. Benjamin Rush. I was a moderate in my beliefs, however, because as a general practice, I didn't demonize the modest consumption of alcohol but instead fervently preached against its excesses.

As I watched the man before me continuing to engage in reckless and self-destructive frivolity, something within me snapped. In than fateful moment, I sprang into action; leaping at inhuman speed towards Dr. Montgomery and snatching the jug from his shaky hands. Before he realized what had happened I was back in my former location holding his prize.

When he finally realized where his jug had disappeared to, he fixed me with a half hearted scowl . . . Ayala could have managed a fiercer glare. "Hay, give that back." He demanded.

"If you want it so badly . . . then come and take it." I challenged.

The not so steady Dr. Montgomery made a number of feeble attempts to rise to his feet before slumping in an exhausted heap on his bed. He waved his hand dismissively at me as he struggled to catch his breath. To my surprise, when he had his wind again, he reached down behind his bed and pulled up a smaller version of the jug I was holding. He smiled at me as he uncorked the jug and then he raised it in a mock toast even as he winked at me.

"You may keep that one, Doctor," He intoned and then paused to down a hearty slug. "In fact, I highly recommend that you indulge yourself . . . a stiff shot or two would do wonders to improve your sour disposition."

_My sour disposition_; the phrase echoed through the corridors of my mind like church bells on Sunday morning. This man was truly outrageous. "My disposition is not sour, sir, it is sober and I . . . "

"Sober, sour . . . it's the same thing." He interrupted. "Blasted Puritans and your pompous preaching on the vices of alcohol . . . hypocrites the whole lot of you."

"I'm not a Puritan, you . . . I'm an Anglican." I muttered quietly, biting back a torrent of angry words. It required a supreme effort on my part not to disgrace myself by calling the man outside his name. As I watched him raise his new jug, I could have sworn I tasted bile in the back of my mouth. Without warning I leapt forward and snatched away his jug again, the act caused the contents to spill on his clothes rather that fill his mouth.

"You stop that!" he bellowed, "And give me back my jug!"

"I should think not." I retorted. Dr. Montgomery's face turned bright crimson with rage as he fixed me with his murderous gaze. "What's the matter, Doctor," I taunted calmly. "Haven't you got another one hidden behind the bed or under your pillow perhaps . . . oh, I know, why don't you try looking in your boots."

"I want that back," he demanded hotly, but then his demeanor shifted abruptly and he pleaded, "I need them, please, you don't understand."

There was a knock on the cabin door and I knew Private Wells had arrived with the coffee. It was going to be a long morning.

"I understand all too well, Doctor," I replied sadly as I walked toward the door. "I have seen too many good men cast into utter ruin by the foul contents of these jugs. If you are lucky, and if you are willing, perhaps there is yet hope for your redemption."

*******

I left the Doctor's quarters in the middle of the afternoon. As fortune would have it, rain was the order of the day. Private Wells and two of his bunkmates had assisted me in thoroughly cleaning Dr. Montgomery's cabin, clearing it of any contraband. We also cleaned up the good doctor, forcing him to take a much needed bath and pouring the entire pot of coffee down his gullet in an effort to sober him up.

As the morning wore on my anger with the doctor waned and I couldn't help my feelings of compassion for the prickly old man. Over the course of our encounter I learned, as I had suspected, that the doctor was suffering from a dreadful melancholy. He saw himself in his current position, not as a healer entrusted with easing men's sufferings, but rather as little more than a butcher drenched in their dying blood. This forced me to wonder whether I would feel any different were I cast into his shoes.

I sighed as I dismissed the thought. The door of our cabin was before me and by the thickness of Ayala's scent in the air; I already knew she was worried by my long absence. When I opened the door, I found her pacing in front of the hearth. She stopped in her tracks briefly as she fixed me with worried eyes, then she took three quick strides towards me before halting abruptly. Worry still lit her eyes but her expression was one of _request_; she was seeking my permission to approach further.

"You've already been inoculated," I soothed, though I knew full well that any symptoms she might display wouldn't appear for another seven or eight days. How could I resist her pleading look? "I suppose it would be alright."

She favored me with a tentative smile, but to my surprise, instead of jubilantly rushing forward to embrace me, she approached more cautiously; as if looking for something. Instead of hugging me, she circled, pulling at my clothes and thoroughly inspecting me.

"What on earth are you doing?" I inquired with a bemused chuckle as she pulled back one lapel of my frock coat and ran her hand along my side. She paused in her search and looked me in the eye briefly, but didn't answer.

Went she came back around in front of me again, I took her gently by the shoulders. "Ayala, what is it?" I insisted.

"_I wished to make sure you were not . . . injured."_ She replied.

"Injured," I repeated as I shook my head. "Child, I am a Sky Being . . . an immortal. Rest assured I'm quite impervious to injury." After a moment's thought I added, "Why would you think I might be injured?"

"_You did not come home this morning, and I worried"_ She began innocently. _"You did not come home at midday and I worried more. I could only think that my brother was hurt and that was why he did not come home."_

I sighed as I pulled her into my embrace. "You must grow accustomed to this sort of thing, child, and not become alarmed by it," I whispered tenderly into her hair as I held her. "I serve the world of men in the capacity of a healer, a doctor, and that duty often keeps my schedule irregular. There may be instances when I don't return home for several days at a time." I continued to hold her, but tipped her chin up so that our eyes meet. "This does not mean that I've left you alone and will never return nor does it mean that I am in peril . . . it is simply a matter of my duties having detained me."

After several minuets I deemed that she was calm enough and released her. My Ayala was a sensitive soul and the absences incurred by me in the administration of my duties would no doubt always prove difficult for her.

"_How difficult will it be when you must finally part from her,"_ my inner voice taunted. _"You know that it will become necessary at some point . . . unless of course you intend to make her an immortal part of your life." _

"_Be silent!"_ I cursed the voice loudly in my mind. I was not yet prepared to think of a day when my Ayala . . . my Little Deer, was no longer a part of my day to day life. As to the prospect of turning her; that was entirely out of the question.

I watched her fondly as she took her seat with her back turned to me; a modesty so that I might change clothes. As I slipped on my old tan breeches I noted that they were clean and when I pulled on my linen shirt it smelled of lye soap and honeysuckle. Ayala had done my washing while I was out tending patients. The kindness made me smile.

"Thank you for the clean clothes, my child," I told her humbly as I took my own seat by the fire. "But I do not expect you to do my washing. You are my sister after all not my housekeeper."

"_They needed cleaning and I was board."_ She replied with a shrug and then asked, _"Did more men become sick and die today, is that why you stayed longer?"_

"No. After I left the infirmary I went to pay the company doctor a visit." I answered her as I opened my book. "There are more sick men now than when we first arrived, and if I am to help these poor souls survive the coming tide, I'm going to need help."

Out of the corner of my eye I noted that she turned away to watch the fire. Restlessness and something else that I couldn't quite pin down marked her features. I was well aware that she wanted to leave as the fort and that the men made her edge, but this new emotion . . . it troubled me deeply.

After half an hour in silence, I could stand the tension no longer. This was more than just my coming home well past noon, something else was troubling Ayala and I was determined to find out what. I quickly put together a suitable yet gentle line of questioning and then took a deep breath.

"How are you feeling?" The question was intentionally ambiguous though I meant to inquire about her emotional state.

"_I do not feel the battle yet, are you sure the pox spirit is inside me?"_ her brow creased in confusion as she asked this.

"Quite sure," I replied. "It takes time for the pox spirit to establish itself." I paused and listened to the crackling of the fire for a brief span of time, no more than a hand full of my sister's heartbeats. "Ayala," I sighed, "What I really meant to ask was . . . what troubles you? When we were on the trail together you freely shared your thoughts with me, now you seem to hold them in reserve. Have I given you some offence, my child?"

"_You have not given me offence, it's just . . . it is nothing Panther Eyes_." She dismissed my inquiry but refused to meet my gaze.

"Little Deer, please," I insisted, "I can see that your heart is troubled . . . to a depth which I have not seen in you since that first day when you told me your story. Will you not share your burden with me?"

She continued to stare at the fire for sometime before she answered me. _"You will be angry."_

I couldn't imagine what she might have done during my absence that she thought would enrage me. "Little Deer, whether I become angry or not is irrelevant." I insisted softly. "And even if I do become upset, it does not change my feeling for you . . . please, my child, I would know your thoughts?"

She sighed as she continued to gaze at the hearth, but something about her posture told me her confession was emanate. I wanted to draw her out not back her into a corner so I held my peace and waited for her to speak.

"_I was board,"_ she began hesitantly. _"So I did your washing. When I spread it to dry, I was still board so I . . . decided to take a walk, down to where the horses are kept. I wanted to see Cloud."_

A relieved smile spread across my face, _'that was all' _I thought with a sigh. I couldn't comprehend why she believed that I would be angry because she sought distraction by visiting her horse.

"How is the old fellow?" I asked in a jovial tone. I hoped it would be enough to dispel her fears regarding my potential anger.

She turned to me for the first time since our conversation began; the seriousness of her expression told me that I had misspoken. There was more to her tale. Just as quickly as her gaze fell upon me, it returned to the low fire burning in the hearth.

"_His coat had not seen a brush in some days, so I took one up and started grooming him." _She paused to gather herself before continuing. _"As I worked, a group of soldiers gathered nearby. They were watching me and whispering among themselves. The things they said were not kind."_

She had encountered the slanderous sting of gossip, I mused. I now understood what had her so out of sorts. "I'm sorry you had to hear such unsavory words; ignorance breeds malice, Little Deer. I try to shield you from these things as much as possible, but I can't always be with you. Fear not, however, it is only idle chatter these men will not cause you harm."

"_You do not understand,"_ She turned once more to me and tears glistened in her eyes. _"They said that . . ."_

I raised my hand to silence her. "Hush now child, there is no need to repeat what was said; to hear an insult from the tongue of another stings the heart, to hear those same insults recounted from your own tongue stings the soul."

She glared at me hotly, her rage seething unconcealed in her trembling body. _"They laughed and suggested that you and I . . . that we . . . that you and I shared the bed robes!" _She lost all composure as the last words left her mouth and was reduced to a sobbing heap.

I left my chair and came to sit beside her on the narrow bench. When I reached to pull her into my arms, she didn't object. Instead, she buried her face in the billowing folds of my clean shirt and drenched it with her tears. I spoke soothingly to her and stroked her hair while she wept, lavishing on her every ounce of my love and concern; inside however an angry inferno raged. There was absolutely nothing improper about my relationship with Ayala. It infuriated me to no end that these vulgar men had suggested such iniquities in front of my sensitive sister.

"Shhh, now; it's alright." I soothed as I felt her fingers dig into my shirt, wadding it into a tight ball in her fist as her body continued to shake with her sobs. "We've done nothing worthy of shame, my child. You are my sister and I am your brother . . . nothing improper or immoral has passed between us. To insinuate such things is the foulest form of slander to be sure, but child, please calm down."

She did not respond and I was at a loss, so I tried again.

"Please, please, for the love of God and the sake of my own breaking heart; Little Deer, cease thy piteous tears."

She continued to be inconsolable no matter what gentle words I plied. In the many months that I had known her, never had I seen her so devastated . . . not even when I'd burned down the cabin. I was beginning to fear that something more than mere slander had happened. She did not, at my first glance, appear injured, but then again I had been distracted by her odd behavior and hadn't really looked. I took a deep breath disguised as a sigh, pulling her rich aroma into my nostrils and going over ever subtle note of it in search of illness or injury. I found nothing extraordinary, but I did detect the lingering odor of two human males on her.

'_Tears have healing properties, Mr. Cullen,'_ I remembered one of my first year medical school professors once telling me. _'They are a purgative that rids the soul of the poisons influences of grief and despair, thus allowing for the process of healing to began. Never discount the restorative power of a good cry, especially in females.'_

And so I continued to hold her as she exhausted the well of her grief into the front of my shirt. When she was calmer I began the delicate process of inquiring about my suspicions.

"There, there now, all is well," I whispered as I brushed my cheek against the crown of her head. Then I took a gentle yet serious tone, "I understand the deep hurt and insult these men's harsh words have caused you, but I get the distinct impression that there is more to this, what else happened, my child?"

She remained in my arms her cheek resting against my damp shirt and for a long time she remained silent. _"You will be angry,"_ she finally squeaked.

"As I have said before on this subject," I spoke in a tone barely above a whisper, "I cannot promise you that I will never become angry with you, but what I can promise is; that I will always love you, I will always be fair in my dealings with you, and that I will never hurt you." Then I paused and added, "What else happened?"

"_The men stayed, watching me until I finished. I was scared and didn't know what I should do."_ She took a deep breath and a felt some of her tension escape as she let the breath out. _"The rain started, and so I knew I should come back to the cabin so I left Cloud. Two of the men followed me, they caught up to me between two cabins and one of them grabbed my wrist. He flung me against the nearest wall and then the other one started to pull up my dress."_

'_Dear God, no!'_ My mind hissed even as a low growl rumbled in my throat. Little Deer flinched but I soother her with gently whispered words and encouraged her to go on.

"_I am no man's dog, Panther Eyes."_ She insisted sternly, it was the fieriest thing I'd heard her say since she began her tale. _"This is what I reminded myself as the men pulled at my clothes; I'm no man's dog. So I . . . I . . . I hit the one closest to me."_ She sat up and pulled away from me enough to show me her bruised hand.

As I carefully examined her knuckles she went on with her narrative. _"I hit him in the face and knocked him backwards. I felt the spirit of White Stage rise up and take over; it had to be him because I do not remember what happened next. When he released me, both men were lying in the mud . . . I had beaten them up. Please do not be angry?" _

"Let me see your other hand," I insisted and she presented it to me. A quick examination proved that none of the fine bones in either of her hands were broken but both were badly bruised. "I am not angry with you, Little Deer. Though I abhor violence, which is likely why you fear my wrath, what you did was an act of self-defense and you have every right to do such. In fact, I'm proud of you for taking up for yourself."

She flung her arms around me again and I patted her back affectionately. Then she released me suddenly and I noticed a new look of worry on her face.

"_We must leave,"_ she insisted once more. _"Jack always said that if you make soldiers mad, they drag you off and hang you and that that is why I must always please the soldiers."_

Just as she said this a foreboding knock came at the door. I knew by the scent that curled under the bottom of the door it was the Captain accompanied by two other. Ayala stiffened in my arms.

"Go into the bedroom, I'll handle this." I told her as I helped her up. "And don't worry; no one is going to hang you." _Not while I have anything to say in the matter_, I muttered inside my own head.


	19. Chapter 19

**Note:** I do not own or have rights to Twilight or it's characters!!!!!

Chapter 19

**Church Mouse**

The Captain and I sat at the small table in the main room of the guest cabin that Ayala and I shared. Before us stood two young soldiers; Private York and Sergeant Greene both of who showed the evidence of my sister's furry. The Sergeant's injuries were less numerous but more serious; a broken jaw with extensive contusions to that area of the face as well as a mild concussion. According to his account, she struck him first, knocking him unconscious with a single blow. The Private had a broken wrist, as well as a broken nose, facial bruising, and a single ugly bruise just below his knee where my sister must have kicked him. All in all, my Ayala had given a good accounting of herself and internally I was amused.

Externally, however, I wore a mask of indifference. I listened as the Captain related the soldier's tale of having been attacked, seemingly without provocation, by my wild and ill-mannered sister.

"We were just passing by her in the narrow ally," the Private insisted. "When Greene's elbow accidently brushed against her. Next thing I know, she just lights into him. I tried to step in and help but then she turned on me."

I sat in silence, listening to the entire sorted affair. To anyone watching I would have appeared completely unmoved, but inside I was seething. _Give a man enough rope,_ I reminded myself in a effort to maintain my calm, _and eventually he'll hang himself with it_. That was my intention, to have these two brutes hang themselves by the noose they tied with the wagging of their own tongues. I only needed keep myself in check and play the situation correctly.

"You see, sir," the Captain turned to me with sad eyes, "There is the testimony of my men. Do not think, for one moment, that I am an ungrateful man. I truly appreciate the selfless effort you have given on the behalf of this fort, but your sister has committed a crime and it must be addressed. I'm afraid I have no choice but to place her under arrest."

I was now ready to act. "Excuse me Captain, and feel free to correct me if I am in error, but . . . are we not still in America. It has always been my understanding that in this great land, a body is innocent until proven guilty. Has that axiom changed without my knowledge?"

The Captain was befuddled, "Well, no . . . of course not. You speak of the rights of every citizen, your sister included, but you have heard the testimony. The crime is clear."

"A one-sided coin, Captain, that is what is clear to me," it was taking a considerable amount of effort to repress my rage and maintain my mask of serenity. "Have you not considered Ayala's side of this woeful tale, did it not occur to you that she might have something insightful to add."

"Your sister is a mute, sir, what could she possibly add." The Captain dismissed.

That was the last insult I was willing to sit serenely and take. It was one thing for Captain Sutton to take the side of his men; he was their commanding officer and therefore their advocate. To wantonly suspend the course of due process, however, simply because my sister lacked the power of speech; that was an unforgivable act.

"Yes Captain, Ayala is indeed a mute but she is utterly devoid of mental defect." I told him sternly. "She is of sound mind, sir, and should you choose to give her a fair hearing, you would find she has an accounting of her own to give . . . one that varies greatly from the one put forth by your men."

Captain Sutton looked confused as his glance went back and forth between me and his men. Obviously my resistance was unexpected. While he decided what move to make next, I turned my sensitive hearing towards the bedroom. Ayala was pacing and muttering softly to herself about the _'filthy laying camp dogs'_ and the things her father, Red Pony, would do to any warrior who attempted to defile his daughter. I found much of what she threatened rather disturbing; partially disemboweling someone and then slowly boiling their intestines while they yet lived was a gruesomely torturous method of punishment. I could understand Ayala's rage thought, especially considering her recent past.

"Am I to understand then, Doctor, that you are saying your sister has informed you of her encounter with my men?" the Captain asked calmly.

I paused briefly to analyze his question as I realized he was looking for some means to draw me into this web of deceit. "She had just finished her confession to me not more than five minutes before you and your men arrived on my door step."

"And just how did she confess, Doctor," the Captain chuckled as he regarded his men. "Did she draw you pictures . . . or perhaps she used pantomime."

A low growl rumbled in my chest, but it was well below the thresh hold of human hearing. "I say that Ayala cannot speak, but this is not entirely true. She is able to give utterance to whispers, though without a tongue, most of her words do not sound as they should. She also knows the Trader's Tongue as taught to her by our family's Seneca slave woman, Grey Mouse." I paused for effect and then added, "So you see gentlemen, my sister is quite capable of communication."

"Then I would hear her account." The Captain insisted quietly before turning to the injured Private. "York, go and fetch Private Wells . . . I believe he is familiar with the Trader's Tongue."

******

I entered the bed room to fetch my sister, the Captain, the two accusing soldiers and Private Wells awaited us. As expected I found her pacing nervously. When she caught sight of me in the door way she began shaking her head vehemently. I closed the door quietly and then turned back to face her, she would require convincing.

"Ayala," I cooed her name softly.

"_No. I will not."_ She insisted. _"You know what I told you . . . you tell them my words."_

I let out a deep sigh. How could I blame her for her reluctance, the last time she faced her accusers openly she was subjected to a severe beating. In fact, she would likely be dead right now were it not for my intervention. I approached her with my arms spread in welcome and she readily fell into them.

"You must Ayala," I whispered into her hair. "The laws and customs of the men of the east dictate that you face openly those whom you accuse."

"_No."_ she muttered into the folds of my shirt.

Vampires are natural masters at the art of manipulation and I was about to bring the full force of my power to bear against my poor sister. I would compel her with examples pulled from the many stories she'd told me and by stirring her Sioux pride. A politician running for public office couldn't reach the heights of rhetorical grandstanding that I was about to engage in.

'_You should be ashamed_,_ Carlisle' _my inner voice chided.

'_Yes I know_,' I answered, '_but_ _what other choice is there?'_

'_Convince her as you always have,'_ the voice answered back. _'With love, openness, and compassion; those are your real strengths . . . pomposity does not become you.'_

I considered the wisdom of my inner voice and found truth in it. Up until now I always lead our little family by general concusses and with a spirit of love and understanding; I had never forced anything on Little Deer. There was no logic in abandoning what had worked well thus far.

"I could go out there, my child, and tell them your words," I sighed as I continued to hold her. "And if that is your wish, then I shall be your voice; far be it from me to force you to face them. However, if you go out there, confront them yourself, and tell you own story I think it would carry considerable more weight."

"_They will not believe me,"_ she whimpered as she buried her face deeper into my shirt, _"and they will laugh. I know how silly I sound when I try to speak."_

"What men's hearts are moved to believe is up to the Creator." I soothed as I stroked her silky brown tresses. "As to your speech, I do not find it silly. Yes, you struggle with your words, but there is great courage and nobility in your efforts."

"_You are my brother and you love me, that is why you think so."_ She retorted.

I couldn't argue with that, "So, is that your final answer then, you will not come out and speak for yourself?"

She shook her head. It broke my long dead heart to know that I had not managed to instill in her the confidence to speak publically. It was one of my many failings as a brother, teacher, and mentor; I would have to rectify this situation very soon.

"Very well then," I pressed a tender kiss into the crown of her head before releasing her from my embrace. I smiled down at her warmly as I didn't wish her to think I was angry in any way with her decision. "I will relate what you told me earlier . . . I will be your voice, to the best of my ability."

I assured her all would be well before leaving her to face the Captain and his men. As I reentered the main room all eyes fell upon me expectantly. The men of this century, like the men of my own, dominated their women. Men ruled and the women quietly did as they were told. Though I tended to regard Ayala in a very old world patriarchal fashion, I never treated her as if she were my subordinate; I never imposed my will upon her. While I was often very overprotective of her, I also realized that she was a strong, intelligent, and highly capable young woman. By the expression on the faces of the men I now faced, my opinion was in the minority.

"Where is your sister, Doctor?" the Captain asked, impatient clearly ringing in his voice.

"I regret she is not feeling well." I informed him. "She has requested that I speak in her stead."

"Doctor," He regarded me skeptically. "I too have a sister, whom I cherish most dearly, and I would do anything with in my power to protect her from harm. So I completely understand what you are about, sir, but I assure you, fancifully stories will not get your sister out of trouble. She stands accused of an unprovoked attack against my men; barring her own compelling testimony to the contrary, I'm going to have to trust that these accusations are true."

I stared blankly at the Captain for several minutes, trying to determine how to salvage the situation. Ayala was telling the truth, I knew this to be the case. She never developed the ability to deceive me; quite literally she was the only human I'd ever run across who was completely incapable of lying.

"Captain, I implore you to hear me out." I insisted.

He dismissed me with a wave, "You are a man of the highest character, Doctor, do not stoop to begging."

"But, I . . ." my words tumbled to a sudden halt. It was not the Captains disapproving glare that cut me short, however, it was the sound of the door behind me opening.

I held my breath as I turned, and to my joy, I found Ayala had hedged her way into the space right in front of the door. She looked terribly uncomfortable, her eyes fixed on the Captain and his men. In that moment she was just like her namesake, a little deer, frozen in fear at the sight of the snarling wolf pack. My heart instantly went out to her and I fought down the urge to rush over and embrace her. I was very much afraid she might bolt back behind the shelter of the door.

"Ayala," I whispered her name causing her to turn her gaze to me. "Come," I held my hand out to her as I gave her my best reassuring smile. All the while I reminded myself to stay calm, to give this poor frightened lamb her dignity and the chance to find the lion I knew existed within her.

Her gaze returned briefly to the others in the room before she looked back to me. I nodded and motioned for her to come forward. She took one tentative step and then another as she slowly progressed across the room. I continued to encourage her with my warm smile and soft whispers. She was doing well, all things considered.

"A church mouse!" The Captain bellowed unexpectedly. I could have actually justified strangling him at that moment, for his boisterous intrusion. Ayala bolted for the bed room door but stopped short of retreating inside her cloister and locking the door behind her.

"The two of you want me to believe you were soundly trounced by a . . . church mouse." The captain's voice boomed but Ayala remained where she was. Her eyes were wide with fear and I could hear her thundering heart. "I don't know what manor of game you're playing at gentlemen, but I am not amused." He turned then to Ayala and both his expression and his tone instantly softened. "I am truly sorry for having frightened you young lady, and for the slanderous accusations that these men made against you. Rest assured; they will not trouble you further."

The Captain rose from his chair, turning once more to his men. "To my office, sirs, and wait for me there . . . and while you are waiting, I suggest you find the truth, if it can be found within you. No more stories about having been beaten to a bloody pulp by a church mouse."

When the rest of the men left the captain addressed us further. "I feel I own you some token of my apology." His voice held a measure of warmth that I hadn't noted in it before.

"There is no need to . . ." I began but he dismissed the rest of my statement with a wave of his hand.

"You needn't trouble yourself by coming up with excuses, Doctor." He insisted. "You and your lovely sister will join me for dinner in my quarters this evening . . . seven o'clock sharp."

Ayala's expression blanched; her panic obvious to anyone with two good eyes. The Captain took note of her reaction and smiled affectionately at her, "Fear not my little church mouse, once you get to know me better you will find that I am not the grizzly bear I appear to be at first glance." Then he added with a playful wink, "But don't tell my men that, it would undermine good order." Then he turned back to me and bowed slightly, "I'll be expecting you at seven, now if you will excuse me . . . my duties wait."

With that, the Captain took his leave.

******

Preparations had to be made for the coming evening. After allowing Ayala to change into her deer skin dress I helped her laundry our only sets of good clothes. With the washing done and set out by the hearth to dry I decided it was time to instruct my sister in proper etiquette and the womanly graces. It was a lot for her to learn in a single session but I wasn't expecting perfection, just minor proficiency.

I decided we should begin with something simply and the curtsy instantly flew to my mind. It was an easy grace that most young girls were well versed at by the age of five. I demonstrated the maneuver for her and the indicated that she should try.

"You don't have to be perfect, Ayala," I soothed; after all we weren't meeting King George III for a royal audience, just Captain Sutton for dinner.

"_It is silly,"_ she sneered.

Patience, I reminded myself with a sigh, though she was born into this culture, it was totally foreign to her. I needed to find a way to show her the relevance of what I was asking of her; to make a connection between her former life and her new one. _It's like having a_ _precious newborn on my hands_, I mused . . . and that was my epiphany. I would treat Ayala as if she were a newborn that neither knew nor understood this strange new life she had awakened too. I, as her surrogate creator, would then be responsible for teaching her absolutely everything. My well of patience was suddenly renewed.

"Among the People, are their not greetings and formal gestures of respect that are offered to venerated elders?" The question was intended to be a bridge, tying her old life to her new one, so that things made more since to her.

"_Yes,"_ she answered with a nod.

"This is the same thing,' I insisted, "it is a gesture of respect offered to someone older or of a higher rank that yours."

She scowled, and I knew by the look that she was not done struggling against me. _"I am the daughter of a war chief, am I not equal to the Captain in rank?"_

"In this society, I should think not." I replied in a light tone. I was trying to teach her this lesson without broaching the distasteful subject of the role of females in 19th century American society. "And, I might add, you would not be his equal among the People either. You are the daughter of a war chief which does, indeed, give you certain status within the tribe, but you are still subordinate to your father, to any other war chief, and to anyone above your father's rank." I smiled warmly at her. "Do not fool yourself into thinking that the Sky Beings pay no heed to the ways of the People."

She continued to watch me for a moment longer before resignation lit her eyes. She inclined her head and curtsied just as I showed her. I smiled broadly and nodded my approval. "Well done, Ayala, well done."

******

The three of us sat comfortably in the Captain's parlor. Dinner had gone well, though I would soon need to find a secluded corner somewhere so that I could bring up the human food and wine I had consumed. Ayala remembered most of the etiquette I taught her, but I caught her on several occasions looking at me for guiding examples. The Captain never noticed the silent exchanges that pass between my sister and I across his table. He was too busy then, as he was now, with regaling his guests with stories of the Revolution.

"I served under Washington," the Captain said proudly. He had repeated this fact at least ten times over the course of the evening. "Did I tell you that?"

I shook my head as I shifted Ayala into a more comfortable position; she'd fallen asleep against my side. She moaned in her sleep but didn't wake.

"She reminds me of my own sister, Marry," he sighed wistfully as he offered me a cigar which I respectfully declined. I could tolerate small amounts of human food and wine until I could purge myself, but my predatory senses could not abide smoking.

"Like you," He went on as her resumed his seat, cigar and brandy in hand, "I am left to be my sister's custodian. She had a wasting disease in her legs during early childhood that left her in a wheel chair. She still resides at our home in Pennsylvania; I have a staff there that looks after her." Then he turned and stared at me through a cloud of blue-white cigar smoke. "I would never conceive of bringing my sister to such a wild and dangerous land, sir, the very notion screams of recklessness."

I could see where this was going; I was about to be raked over the coals for bringing Ayala west. A part of me was annoyed by the Captain's attitude while another part was highly amused . . . if only he knew the truth.

"I understand you concern Captain," I began in a congenial tone, "But we have only each other in this world and you can see just how attached she is to me. I tried once to leave her in the care of others; she slid into a deep melancholy, stopped eating, and nearly wasted away unto death before I could get back to her. At that point I resolved to have her with me always."

"Your little church mouse is spoiled, Doctor, that's all," he dismissed before taking a sip of brandy. "Instead of coddling her after she nearly died, you should have nursed her to health and then given her a sound thrashing with your strap for her foolishness. It would have saved you considerable trouble."

Suddenly I felt as though I was ten years old again and standing before my father. _'Spare the rod and spoil the child',_ I'd heard my fair share of Sunday morning sermons on that topic and had been on the receiving end of its vigorous application. I _was not_ a proponent or practitioner of the theory.

"Thank you for the advice, sir, and I'll keep it in mind."

"No, you won't," The Captain chuckled dryly. "You will ignore it and continue to mollycoddle your sister until something unfortunate happens . . . and _then _you will engage in self-loathing and self-flagellation until you end up like that pathetic Dr. Montgomery."

I sat in silence watching the fire in the hearth for some time. Ayala wasn't spoiled, she was frightened. I knew my sister far better than this man; she had a teachable spirit and a sharp mind. She would do fine in the world; all she required was solid instruction on how to go about life . . . and a chance to live it.

"Your church mouse is exhausted, Doctor, you best pack her off to bed now." He finally grumped.

Thankful for the opportunity to make a polite exit, I scooped Ayala into my arms and took her home.


	20. Chapter 20

**Note:** I do not own or have rights to Twilight or its characters!!!!

Chapter 20

**The Forest for the Trees**

A week had passed since the trouble with Private York and Sergeant Greene. Both men were assigned to be on latrine and stable cleaning duties for a month, just as soon as their injuries healed enough to permit it. They persisted in their story about Ayala attacking them, but the Captain wasn't hearing any of it. _'A church mouse, gentlemen, does not beat the stuffing out of a tom cat; it is simply unnatural,'_ I heard him bellowing from his office on evening as I passed. There punishment, I learned from Private Wells, was as much from lying as it was for the tomfoolery that got them injured in the first place.

I was standing in front of the small mirror by the cabin door adjusting my neck cloth when I felt a gentle tug at my shirt sleeve. I looked down to find Ayala beside me holding my frock coat; she'd just finished reattaching a loose button.

"Thank you, my child," I smiled warmly as I took my coat from her. To insure that she was fully occupied during my absence, I resumed her lessons. I had allowed her education to laps while we were on the trail. "When you've finished the written work I've prepared for you, there is a new book for you on the mantel. You should have no difficulties with either the work or the book. If you should find words in your reading that you don't know, write them down and we'll go over them when I return."

"_Can we go for a walk when you come back?"_ She hated being confined, but given what happed the last time she went out alone, it was for the best.

"It would be my pleasure to accompany you on a stroll, my child, weather permitting, of course." I informed her as I patted her head. As I touched her; however, I noticed she felt slightly warmer than she should. I scowled with concern as a placed my palm on her forehead.

"How do you feel, Ayala?" I inquired; she was defiantly a little feverish. I cupped her face affectionately between my hands; my fingers probing the glands under her jaw without her even being aware of the action. The glands were normal.

She shrugged, _"Well, I guess."_

I sighed; my concern still not totally satisfied. It was possible that her slightly elevated temperature was the buy product of her approaching moon cycle. I knew this delicate time would soon be upon her as her scent tended to change with the fluctuation in the hormones that governed her feminine biology. It was, of course, normal for a human woman's body temperature to rise ever so slightly in the days preceding the event and even during it.

"Please let me know if that changes, yes." I insisted as I gazed into her jade eyes.

She smiled and nodded and with that I kissed her forehead and left for the infirmary.

*******

Now a full third of the forts populace was in the throes of the pox. I had tried to convince the Captain to allow me to perform a mass inoculation, even citing that his mentor, General Washington, had used the strategy in 1777. He declined, however, fearing the men would revolt at the prospect. I suspected he now wished he had heeded my council.

So many men were now infected that the fort's small infirmary could no longer hold them all. Captain Sutton gave me use of the mess hall as a new makeshift ward. The dining tables were moved into a large tent out on the parade ground and beds set up in their place. My meager staff went from two orderlies to four as the Captain found two more men who had survived the pox as children. I set them in two man shifts of twelve hours each and the Captain cleared their duty rosters of anything that didn't include assisting me.

When I enter the mess hall I found Smith and Jenkins had just come on duty. They gave me a brief report concerning the overall conditions and changes in some of the men before going back to their duties. Information in hand, I began my rounds. It was then that I noticed him, beside one of the beds tending a sick soldier. If it were possible for me to do so, I would have fainted.

"Dr. Montgomery," I called as I approached.

The stout, dark haired doctor turned to watch as I came near. "Dr. Cullen," He inclined his head slightly as he regarded me. "You seem surprised to see me."

"Well actually . . ."

"What else am I supposed to do with my unoccupied hours of forced sobriety?" He cut me off before I could finish my answer.

He wasn't exactly sober, but he was likely closer to it than he had been in some time. Because I didn't have the time, the energy, or the inclination to nurse him through alcoholic withdrawals while dealing with a small pox outbreak, I instead allotted him prescribed measures of his favorite elixir. It was enough to keep him comfortable but not enough to render him utterly intoxicated.

"Well," he snapped pulling me from my thoughts. "Either get on with your rounds, Doctor, or order me to get out." He glared at me defiantly, waiting for me to give the command. I smiled at him instead.

"Which men have you looked in on already?" I inquired. "I wouldn't want to waste time revisiting them."

*******

The promise of a new day splashed hues of coral and periwinkle into the eastern sky. I had seen well over ninety thousand sunrises since awakening to my immortal life, and I never grew tired of them. Except for drastic changes in weather, to the human eye they all appeared the same, nothing more than a splendid repeat of the previous day's performance, but to my superhuman senses each new dawn was different and distinct. I drew in a deep breath and allowed a satisfied grin to spread across my face as I crossed the parade grounds towards home and my waiting sister.

It wasn't just the magnificent display on the eastern horizon that had me in a better mood than usual, nor was it simply the fact the Ayala would soon greet me with one of her fierce hugs. I had seceded in turning a doomed life around; Dr. Montgomery was back at his work. After my rounds last evening, he and I had a long thoughtful discussion and we agreed that I would have night duty and he would take days until the small pox crises passed. For the first time since meeting him, I saw the spark of passion in his eyes and I hoped I could feed that passion and thus rekindle the flame of his first love for his calling . . . to restore his love of medicine.

As I left the Infirmary just moments ago, my colleague the good Dr. Montgomery, was firmly in charge of things. I had every confidence in him and his abilities. It made me feel better knowing the sick men had a capable physician on duty while I 'rested'. I also helped ease my guilt about eventually leaving this place; knowing that the men here would continue to receive good care.

The door to the cabin was before me and the thought of Little Deer's exuberant greeting was at the forefront of my thoughts. With a blissful sigh, I knocked lightly and then pushed the door open. My warm smile fell instantly when I found the main room of the cabin empty.

"Ayala," I called softly, perhaps she was in the bed room I thought, but there was no response to my call. I took a deliberate deep breath as I quickly change clothes; her scent was too strong in the cabin for her not to be here. My eyes quickly darted around the room; her lessons lay half finished on the table and the coals in the hearth were long cold. My frown deepened.

Gingerly I opened the bedroom door, "Ayala," I whispered as I entered the darkened room. I could make out her form lying in bed, buried under the thick quilt. It was unlike her to still be in bed at this hour. I took a breath, analyzing her scent even as my ears assessed the rhythm of her heart. "Oh, dear," I muttered.

I approached the side of her bed and peered down at her. She was trembling under the thick covers. Before taking my seat beside her on the narrow bed, I lit the candle on the bedside table.

"Ayala, my child," I whispered as my hand went to her forehead; this was intended as a gesture of comfort as much as an assessment of her condition. Her skin was ablaze with fever.

"_Panther Eyes,"_ she responded weakly as her eyes opened slightly. _"I do not feel well."_

"So it would appear," I murmured soothingly to her. "Let me gather a few things and then we'll see about making you feel better."

When I returned, I had a basin of cool water and rags in one hand and a cup for warm willow bark infusion in the other. Because she was my sister, and I loved her, I added a generous dollop of honey to the willow bark to make it more palatable to her. I set the basin on a stool beside the bed before resuming my seat next to Little Deer.

"I have something I need you to drink." I whispered as I raised her head gently and brought the cup to her lips. I was very mindful of the liquid's temperature; it wasn't hot enough to burn her tender mouth, but at the same time it was warm enough to be soothing as it went down her throat.

"Here we are," I encouraged as I pressed the rim of the cup to her lips. "I need you to drink it all, my darling; this will help bring your fever down."

She grimaced after the first swallow, but eventually she drained the cup. I had no doubts that she would. In spite of her strong will and intractable spirit, Ayala was a good girl . . . not once had she ever wantonly disobeyed me. With the cup empty I eased her head back down on the pillow and made her comfortable.

"_The battle has started,"_ she whispered so softly I almost missed it.

"Indeed, and it has started in earnest," I replied lightly as I wrung out one of the wet rags to place as a cool compress on her forehead.

"_My spirit woman is not strong",_ she sounded so terribly dejected that it tore at my heart. _"The pox spirit is stronger than me and it made me sick."_

"That's not necessarily true, Ayala," I soothed as I squeezed the second rag until it was only damp and then began gently wiping her face and neck with it. "It simply means that your spirit woman and the pox spirit are going to have to fight this thing out; it doesn't mean you are weaker, child."

I knew that it was going to come down to this, that the inoculation would likely make her ill. While I mentioned to her that sometimes patients who were inoculated didn't become sick at all, most of the time they did; at least to some degree or other. Perhaps I had been wrong to say such things and thereby raise false hopes in her.

"Trust me, child, you'll be fine," I soothed as I continued to wipe her exposed skin with the cool damp rag. "Your spirit shall defeat the pox spirit and it will never trouble you again."

*******

Her fever continued without abatement, thought the willow bark kept it from climbing into a deadly range. She was in her fourth day of it now, and my concern was intensifying. By day I tended to her and by night Dr. Montgomery slept in an armchair beside her bed, waking every few hours to give her the infusion and replace her cool compresses. Three soldiers had passed from the cursed disease in the last two days and of all those now stricken with the pox, my Ayala was the most critically ill.

It was with intense trepidation that I now returned to the cabin to switch places with Dr. Montgomery. I found him in the main room preparing more of the infusion for Ayala. By the expression on his face, I could tell that there was no change in her condition.

"Did you manage to coax her to take any of the beef tea?" I asked hopefully.

"A little, but not nearly enough." He replied sadly. "She's a strong one, that girl of yours, and she could pull through this with ease, if we could but bring down this cursed fever." He shared my growing irritation.

I growled low in my throat, the fever simply would not break and it was wearing on my frayed nerves.

'_You were the one, who suggested inoculation,'_ my inner voice chided. I pushed it back, deep into the far recesses of my mind. I did not regret inoculating Little Deer, though I did feel guilty about her current illness.

"We've tried everything," I sighed. "I suppose it we will have to rely on willow bark, her will to live, and the grace of Almighty God."

Dr. Montgomery huffed, "I never took you to be a quitter, Dr Cullen. I guess I was wrong."

I was stunned, quitting . . . giving up on my beloved sister was the last thing I intended to do. "I think you misunderstand me, sir."

"I didn't misunderstand anything." He insisted. "That girl is in there fighting for her life with every scrap of tenacity she's got and you're out here shrugging your shoulders and resigning her fate to the will of heaven. I thought I heard you say you loved her . . . well then, let's see you fight for her. "

He was right, I hated to admit it, but he was absolutely right. "I'm at the end of my preverbal rope, sir. However, if I'm not mistaken, your determination and demeanor indicate that you have something in mind."

He glanced at me briefly before turning to go back to the bedroom and administer the infusion he had prepared. I watched as he gently scooped Ayala's head in his hand and pressed the cup to her lips. It amazed me the way her cooed and cajoled her until she took her medicine. For a gruff porcupine of a man, he was immensely tender with my poor sick sister.

"There is a cave, not too far from here," he began as he set the empty cup down on the night stand. "Back when I first arrived in this hellish place, I used to take long walks in the woods and I stumbled across it. The cave has a chamber with a high vaulted ceiling and at some point a section of it fell in. The winter snows accumulate inside, and because the subterranean temperatures remain cool even in the summer . . . there's a snow pack inside the cave well into early August.

"Ice, Dr. Cullen," he intoned in an all too calm voice. "We drive Ayala's fever down by packing her in ice."

"She'll get frostbite." I exclaimed louder than I intended. In truth I was ashamed that I hadn't thought of such a remedy myself and sooner. I had read, in several good medical journals out of Europe, about the benefits of emersion in cold baths and ice for high fevers, though there was some risk involved.

"I've thought of that too," he informed me. "The blacksmith has a collection of burlap bags, the oats for the horses come in them and he can't seem to bring himself to throw them away. We can use a few of these to insulate you sister from direct contact with the snow." He paused to judge my reaction and then added, "What do you say Dr. Cullen, do we fight for her or not?"

I was at loss; finally I nodded as I would do anything to save Ayala. "I'm sorry, I should have thought of that myself," I apologized to my colleague.

"Don't feel too badly," He encouraged me with a smile. "Sometimes it's hard to see the forest for the tree, Doctor, that's why it's always good to have a fresh set of eyes to give you a new perspective." He patted my shoulder as he passed me. "I'll drop by the Infirmary and tell the help where we're off to and then go get a wagon and team from the livery. You gather what supplies we'll need for the next day or so."


	21. Chapter 21

Note: I do not own or have rights to Twilight or it's characters!!!

Chapter 21

**Healing Properties**

My fingers rested lightly on Major Douglas' wrist, I could no longer hear the thrum of his tired heart and beneath my stony fingers he had no pulse. I knew he was dead even before I touched him; the gesture of checking for a pulse was only a formality for me. The Major was the ninth fatality claimed by the small pox. Reverently I pulled the blanket up to cover his face, he had fought the good fight and he was now in receipt of his eternal reward.

I turned and found Jenkins at the foot of the bed. I nodded sadly to the man, indicating that he should inform the burial detail.

"I thought he would make it," Jenkins muttered. "Only yesterday we were talking." He shook his head in disbelief before looking up at me, "The ice seemed to be helping; I really thought he would make it."

I understood his confusion and grief; in fact I shared it. Often in my unnaturally long career, I had unexpectedly lost patients that I thought would surely survive. It was a bitter shock that, to this day, left raw pain seething in my chest. As I stood beside Jenkins, one hand resting in silent solidarity on his shoulder, I tried to think of something comforting to say.

"Thine eyes did see my substance, yet being unperfect;" the sixteenth verse of the 139th Psalm fell effortlessly from my lips. "And in thy book all my numbers were written, which in continuance were fashioned, when as yet there were none of them." I had often sought refuge in the words of that verse, when I couldn't fathom the painful and incomprehensibly _why_ of death.

"Thank you." He whispered softly.

I nodded as I turned to leave, it was morning and therefore time to switch shifts with Dr. Montgomery. "If you should require council Private Jenkins," I told him as I walked slowly towards the door. "Seek me out, my ears and my shoulders are yours."

With that, I left the mess hall.

******

I crossed the parade ground quickly; I was eager to be back with my sister. After day and a half at the cave, alternately packing and then removing Ayala from the snow, her stubborn fever finally broke. She was on the path to recovery now, but her illness left her weak and fatigued. It would be sometime yet before she would be her old self again.

I entered the cabin and changed clothes before making my way to the bed room. I found my sister sitting up in bed, a bright but somewhat weak smile curling her lips at the sight of me. Beside her bed, sprawled in a leather armchair and sound asleep, was her sentinel, Dr. Thaddeus Montgomery.

I was about to speak my greeting to her, when she raised her finger to her lips, insisting on silence. I shook my head in wonder at her consideration for the exhausted Dr. Montgomery. Over the course of the past few days the two of them had become fast friends. In fact, the doctor's association with my sister had a profound effect on his personality. Gone was the surly gruff natured man I had first met; his once distasteful attitude was replaced with a gentleness of spirit and a deep sense of compassion.

Even his attachment to his once favorite elixir seemed to evaporate like fog before the morning sun under Little Deer's influence. He hadn't touched a single drop of alcohol since Ayala's fever broke at the cave over a week ago. It was in the aftermath of her near fatal illness that the two of them started spending extended periods of time together . . . and when I began to notice a drastic change in Dr. Montgomery's personality.

I was beginning to wonder if my sister might have some sort of unusual gift. She seemed to be able to influence the emotions and actions of others with her naturally innocent personality. Simply walking into the room in the timid way she had, was enough to convince Captain Sutton that Ayala was a 'church mouse' and therefore incapable of violence. Now she had the good Doctor sober, back at his work with a fresh zeal, and almost completely cured of his melancholy. I was beginning to wondered just how much of my own reactions to her were the result of the powerful pull of her unadulterated innocence.

Obviously this gift wasn't fool proof; as it would seem that there were some individuals, like the Savoy brothers as well as Private York and Sergeant Greene, who were immune to its effects. In these cases, what innocence and love could not conquer, the spirit of White Stag would rise up to defend against. I found my sister's dual persona quite interesting.

In fact, her unusual nature was so intriguing that I would be quite interested in introducing her to Eleazar for the sole purpose of having his official interpretation of her gift. Although my good friend swore that he could only sense such things in vampires, as strongly as Ayala was able to affect individuals both human and vampire alike . . . and as _only_ a mere _human_ herself , I had a sneaking suspicion that my long time friend might be able to sense something off my sister.

With a soft sigh, I crossed the room and took a seat on the edge of her bed. "Good morning, my child," I whispered warmly as I began my brief examination, feeling the glands under her jaw and noting that the swelling was down. "Did you rest well?"

She nodded_. "He is teaching me to play chess,"_ she inclined her head towards the doctor. I took note of the chess board on the night stand. _"I am not very good, but he is kind and he lets me win sometimes." _

"Good," I nodded as I tuned my ears and listened to the steady thrum of her heart and the even tempo of her breathing. Her lungs sounded clear and her heart thumped strongly in her chest. "I'm glad to see the two of you are getting along so famously."

My eyes cast upon the half eaten bowl of soup and untouched cornbread from her evening meal and I shook my head. "You're going to have to do better than that child," I insisted as I pointed to the remnants of her meal, "If you want to get strong again."

"_I am not hungry,"_ she replied shyly. _"And these men do not cook so well, the food tastes strange."_

Curious, I dipped my finger into the broth and sampled it. While my vampire senses found human food utterly wretched, I could easily tell the difference between the ordinary foulness of an otherwise well cooked meal and the unsavory quality of poor cooking. Ayala was right about the soup: if I were human, I would likely balk at eating it. A word with the company cook was in order.

"I'll see what can be done." I told her as I left her bed side to rouse the sleeping Dr. Montgomery. If necessary, I would cook for her myself.

"_Do not wake him,"_ Ayala insisted as I reached for the doctor's shoulder. _"He is tired, let him sleep."_

I suddenly felt a compelling desire to do just as she suggested, to let the exhausted man sleep until he woke of his own accord. It took me several moments to shake off the pull of my sister's gift. Now that I was aware of the pull of her unique nature, I found it easier to determine when I was under its influence and thus rescue my own will from the force of Ayala's gravitation. At some point in the future, I might have to mention this phenomenon to her and teach her to control it . . . but then again, perhaps not. Knowing my Ayala, she might misconstrue my observations as a suggesting that she was a witch; next to incest, witchcraft was one of the most heinous taboos among the Native tribes.

"It's time for his shift at the infirmary," I insisted as I dismissed my musings. "I understand that you are concerned for you new friend's welfare, child, but there are sick men who are in need of his skills."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the sad scowl spread across her face as she crossed her arms over her chest. Once again I felt the draw of my sister's gift, willing me to let Dr. Montgomery sleep. I was defiantly going to have to do something about her special ability. While I suspected that she was completely unaware of her powerful influence, it wasn't fair for her to steal the wills of others by forcing her own upon them . . . even when the outcome was a positive one. I set the thorny topic to stew in the back of my vast mind as I gently grabbed the sleeping man by the shoulder.

"Thaddeus," I called softly as I gave him a gentle shake. "It's time to wake up, man."

"Oh, Carlisle," The man mumbled groggily as he woke, "I' wasn't sleeping; I was just resting my eyes."

A smile spread across my face, but I didn't dispute him in spite of the fact that he was, indeed, asleep. "Of course not, it was my mistake."

Dr. Montgomery stretched and rose from his chair. When he saw Ayala sitting up awake he chuckled softly and a happy expression spread like the dawning of a new day across his face.

"Ahh, good morning my dear," he greeted her warmly as he approached her bed.

His eyes were bloodshot from lack of adequate sleep and the dark circles under them further attested to his weird state. I felt badly for having roused him, but his presence was required. Perhaps I would suggest that he retire to his own quarters tonight. Ayala was well enough now that she didn't really require him to sit with her and he could defiantly use a good night's rest. That notion soon evaporated with my sister's exuberant greeting and Dr. Montgomery's response.

"_Good morning Thad,"_ she replied just as warmly. I felt a sudden powerful wave of affection waft off my sister that flooded the entire room.

Thaddeus insisted that Ayala call him Thad when he realized it was easier for her to whisper than his full name . . . but even then, it didn't quite come out right. I watched as he settled himself on her bedside and repeated much of the examination I had just preformed. I considered saying something, but then thought better of it . . . like me; he would only be satisfied with the results of his own findings.

"You're doing much better," Thaddeus insisted with a nod. While I doubted Ayala realized it, his comment was directed more at himself than her. His eyes then fell upon her half eaten supper. "But something must be done about your appetite . . . or the lack thereof."

"I was going to have a word with the cook," I interjected. "Have you tasted that swill . . . pigs would balk at eating it."

"Don't trouble yourself, Doctor." He said with a sigh as he rose from her bed. "I'll pass by the kitchen on the way to the infirmary. Have no fear; once I'm done chewing on the cook's ear . . . Ayala will have meals fit for Ambassadors and Heads of State. In fact, President Madison won't be eating as well as our little girl here.

"Perhaps a good bleeding is in order as well," he added as almost an afterthought. "That usually puts a patient's appetite to rights."

My face remained an unreadable mask at his suggestion of bleeding Ayala. While this was a common medical procedure routinely prescribed for a wide host of ailments, and I had employed it myself on occasion, I never found it to be satisfactorily therapeutic. In fact, I could honestly say that I had never seen a single patient cure of their malady by the practice. I was now determined to find some other recourse to stimulate my sister's appetite.

I walked Thaddeus to the door and was about to wish him a good day when a thought occurred to me. During my travels through the wilds, I noted a certain lowly yellow flower growing in abundance everywhere. Ayala had ever mentioned that it was used medicinally by the Shamans of her tribe.

"If you happen to spot Private Wells, could you send him around, please," I inquired politely as I opened the door for my colleague. "I have a particular errand I wish him to run."

"Something I can help with?" He inquired curiously.

"No, it's an inconsequential matter," I answered in what I hoped was a casual tone. "Wells is the right man for the job."

With a nod, Dr. Montgomery left and not long after, a light knock came at the door. The Private's familiar scent curled under the door making me smile. I would resurrect Ayala's appetite without spilling a drop of her precious blood. When I opened the door, I found Wells standing ramrod straight at attention on the small porch. It seemed that Thaddeus had sent him around to the kitchen on his way over here as his hands he held mine and Ayala's breakfast in his hands.

"Private Wells reporting as requested, sir." He intoned formally.

"At ease, Private," I dismissed lightly; I doubted that I would ever get used to being treated like a military officer. "Please come in. Put the tray on the table and then have a seat."

Once he was settled by the fire, I began. "I have a little job for you Wells, if you don't mind humoring me."

"Of course not, sir, the Captain says I'm to do whatever you ask . . . even if I must skip my assigned duties." He replied. I wasn't previously aware of this order, but it was nice to know.

"Very good," I nodded. "Now, are you familiar with the plants in this area?"

"Yes, sir, but not by their fancy names, sir." He seemed a bit nervous, as if he thought I might be about to quiz him on his knowledge of Botany.

"How about the Dandelion, do you know of it?" I inquired. "If I ask you to go out and collect Dandelions, roots and all, would you be able to do that?"

"Yes sir," He answered with a grin. "We men make wi . . . well, we know about that plant very well, sir."

"You make wine out of it." I finished his censured statement for him even as I gave him a knowing look. "What you men do in your spare time is your own business, Private. I, however, want the root of the plant to make a tincture to help stimulate my sister's appetite." I turned then and took up the grass basket Ayala used when gathering plants and handed it to him. "Bring that back to me; _full . . . _can you manage that task for me?"

Wells stood to his feet, and for the first time since I arrived, he saluted me. "Yes sir, Dr. Cullen, sir."

"Good man." I nodded my approval. "Now off with you, and do try to be back before lunch. I would like to have enough time to make the tincture and administer it to my sister before the midday meal."

* * *

**Historical Notes:**

1) Bleeding along with purging (giving certain agents which caused evacuation of the bowels), were common medical practice of the early nineteenth century and were cited as curative for countless aliments. Medical science has certainly come a long way!

2) Bitter herbs like Dandelion, Burdock, Chamomile, and Sage have been used in traditional medicine for ages. All of these have some effect on the digestive tract. I chose Dandelion because it grows prolifically throughout the US and it was well know in Native American medicine.


	22. Chapter 22

**Note: **I do not own or have rights to Twilight or it's characters!!!!

**AN:** _for those of you who have wondered, at this point in the story, Little Deer is sixteen. She celebrated her birthday over the winter, sometime around mid December. Dr. Montgomery is in his early thirties and, though he is fond of Little Deer, he thinks of her rather like a favorite niece. _

Chapter 22

**Odyssey Resumed**

The morning of our departure from Fort Flint dawned cloudy and I could smell the promise of rain for later that afternoon on the damp breeze. Ayala, leading a fully laden Cloud behind her, approached me at a stately walk. She was excited about leaving to resuming our journey towards St Lewis, but she had confided in me the fact that she would miss Thad greatly. I too would miss the crusty old doctor, but I was confident that through our combined influences on his life, he was permanently set right again.

After a little over a month and a half's delay in this place, I was eager for us be on our way. The lost time couldn't be made up without pushing both my sister and Cloud to the limits of their endurance. I would have to settle for getting us as close to our destination as I could through the rest of the summer and early fall. Then I would find us a suitable place to spend the long cold winter.

I smiled as Ayala came nearer; she was attired in her much hated green cotton dress. We would both change into something more comfortable for life on the trail once we were far enough from the fort. To my satisfaction Cloud had regained some of the weight he had dropped on the trail; in fact, if we stayed any longer, I would fear him becoming portly and unfit.

"Are you ready?" I asked her as she came to stand beside me.

Before she could answer, Cloud snorted loudly and nodded his huge grey head. I couldn't help laughing as I reached to pat him between the ears. "I wasn't speaking to you, old boy; I was addressing your mistress. Nevertheless, I appreciate your enthusiasm."

It still amazed me how, over the course of time, the gelding had come to accept both my presence and my touch. A part of me wondered just how much my sister's powerfully influential gift had to do with this. When I resided with the Volturi, Aro owned a stable of about a dozen or so majestic Friesians. The elegant black horses were employed to pull his private coach across the Italian country side, thus facilitating daytime travel when necessary. The horses were in the charge of a whole host of human stable keepers. The one and only time I saw him attempt to come near one of the skittish animals, it tore free of its harnessing, and nearly kicked the carriage to splinters in the process.

"_I am ready,"_ she whispered, pulling my attention away from my reminiscing and back to reality.

We turned and began walking together towards the gate when the voice of Captain Sutton called after us. Even without turning around, I knew he wasn't alone. I could hear the tromping footsteps of the group of men that marched at his back; each of their scents was as familiar to me as my sister's.

We stopped in our tracks, Ayala cast me a worried glance, but I soothed her concerns with my most reassuring smile. In unison we turned and found ourselves confronted by the Captain, Dr. Montgomery, Private Wells, and an assembly of others.

"You didn't honestly think we were going to let you two leave without saying good-by did you?" The Captain's voice carried on the humid morning air. "After all, what would the Army be without pomp and circumstance?"

My sister's worried expression instantly became a broad grin, as she realized that we weren't in any danger. She gave me a quick sideways glance which I knew meant she wished my blessing. With a slight nod, I gave it and then watched as she rushed forward to embrace Thaddeus.

The Captain too was watching the exchange between Dr. Montgomery and Ayala. I couldn't help but notice both the smile he wore on his lips and the small silver droplet that traced its way down his cheek. Both men had grown quite fond of the 'church mouse'.

"The men," the Captain began, as he turned from the touching scene, "The men, and indeed I myself, feel as though we owe you an immeasurable debt, Dr Cullen. Providence brought you to us at a most fortuitous time; had you not arrived in our mistiest when you did . . . well, the results I fear would have been most grave.

"To that end, sir, the men have a gift that they wish to present. Corporal Wells, you may proceed."

I wasn't aware of the Private's promotion in rank, but when I took closer notice of his uniform he wore the insignia of his new station on his sleeve and collar. I smiled with satisfaction; Wells would make an outstanding officer.

"Uhm . . ." Wells stuttered a little as he stepped forward. "The men and I know that your stay here delayed your personal business and we also know that you wouldn't accept payment for you services from the Captain. You are truly a man of the highest honor, Dr Cullen . . . but so are we, sir.

"We owe you a tremendous debt, one that we can never afford to pay. But we thought we might at least do something, so we all pitched in and got this for you and your sister," He turned to the crowed of men behind him. The group remained reverently silent as they parted to allow the blacksmith to make his way through. He was leading a plump golden-brown mare with a flaxen mane and tail. The little horse was burdened with a pack saddle overflowing with all manor supplies. Wells took the lead rope from the blacksmith and brought the mare forward.

"This is from all of us, Dr. Cullen . . . you seem to be a practical sort of man and we couldn't think of anything more practical to get for you than supplies to help you and your sister along on your journey." He held the rope out for me to take.

"Thank you." I replied humbly; at that moment I was at a loss for anything more to say. I found the heartfelt gift given by the men of Fort Flint almost as touching as the ceremonial shirt Ayala had given me.

"I am honored by the gift, but it was unnecessary, of course," I began when words would form in my mind again. "I would gladly have lent my skills and services to each and every one of you a thousand times over with no recompense expected or required. You do your country well, you serve her nobly. It is _I_, a humble son of this great nation, who owes you _my_ thanks for your loyalty and courage."

When the echo of my words ended the assembled company stood to attention and, as a united body, they saluted me. If I had tears to shed, I would have wept with pride.

"Don't go thinking the ceremony is over," Thaddeus' voice boomed.

I looked to my left and found him walking towards me. Ayala had returned to my side several moments ago and was busy making friends with the new mare. She stopped what she was doing and came to stand next to me. The fingers of her hand sought to lace themselves in those of mine and I didn't object, instead, I gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

"I am a simple man, Dr. Cullen, fancy words and speeches are awkward for me . . . so I'll come quickly to my point." Thaddeus paused and took a deep breath in an effort to calm himself. "My feet were firmly set upon a path of destruction. Were it not for you, sir, giving a hooter's da . . ." He smiled and inclined his head in apology as he corrected his language. "I mean . . . if it weren't for you caring about a washed up old sot like me, I likely would have drunk myself into an early grave. Quite literally, you saved my life and there is nothing I can ever do to repay that . . . but I hope this small gift will at least express a measure of my gratitude."

In his out stretched hand he held a black leather valise which I managed to force my own hand to accept. If I was correct about the bag's contents the _'small gift'_, as he called it, was anything but small.

"Captain Sutton told me you lost your medical equipment to the recent floods," he shrugged. "I had an extra set at my disposal. No doctor who is as willing to heed and honor his oath as faithfully as you do, should ever be without the instruments of his profession."

"I will put it to good use, Thaddeus, thank you." I replied, still feeling overwhelmed by the outpouring of generosity.

"I'm not done yet," he insisted with a grin. "I can't forget our little church mouse." From his coat pocket he took something wrapped in a swath of dark blue velvet. "I wish I had a fancy box for this, but such foofaraw is uncommon here in the wilderness." He extended his parcel to Ayala. "This is for you, my dearest. It belonged to my mother, but I'm sure you can put it to much better use than I can."

With a reassuring nod from me, Ayala accepted and then un-wrapped the parcel. Inside the blue velvet was an exquisite three piece silver vanity set; a hand mirror, a hair brush, and a comb. She smiled up at him and I felt a wave of unbridled affection wafted off of her before she hugged him tightly.

"You are very welcome, my dearest," I heard him whisper into her hair, in answer to her unspoken thank you.

"Well," the Captain finally interrupted. "As much as I hate breaking this up, there are duties to be preformed and the good Doctor and his sister have many miles to go before they can rest tonight. Let us all be about our respective business."

With a hand shake from me and a hug from Ayala, we parted company with Captain Sutton and resumed our odyssey southward.

********

The smell of rain was heavy on the late afternoon air as we stopped to make camp. Among the items provided to us by the men of Fort Flint was a large officer's field tent. While it wouldn't be prudent to pitch such a cumbersome shelter every night, with a long night of rain threatening it was a definite blessing.

While I put up the tent, Ayala tended and picketed the horses. Cloud instantly took a liking to his new companion, and the two animals huddled quietly next to each other under the nearby shelter of a rock overhang while my sister fed and groomed them.

"Well, does she have a name yet?" I inquired as I secured the last of the tent stakes. All day long I had watched her; a thoughtful expression would creep across her face every time she looked at the mare. I knew she was considering a name for our newest family member.

She nodded_, "Willow."_

I tough of the sturdy little trees that grew along on near water; they were useful in many ways and very hardy just like our new equine friend. "A good name, it suits her," I told her warmly. "I like it."

By the time the deluge ensued, Cloud and Willow were securely hobbled and picketed under the sheltering overhang and Ayala and I were hunkered in our tent. At the start of the inclement weather, when the rain was still nothing more than annoying drizzle, I hunted my fill. With it too wet for a cook fire, my sister was reduced to eating cold biscuits and beans sent along with us by the reformed company cook.

Ayala was strangely silent, picking at her plate as she listened to the patter of the rain and the occasional clap of thunder. Her face lacked its usual readable nature and so I was forced to ponder what might be swirling inside her mind. Perhaps it was the storm; I thought with a sigh as I turned the page of the book in my lap, she always detested storms. When I could take her sullen stillness no longer, I spoke up.

"If you're worried about Cloud and Willow," I began in the reassuring tone that she usually responded to favorably. "I can easily hear them, even over the rage of the storm, and I can assure you that they are quite contented."

She nodded, but her expression didn't change and she continued to pick at the remains of her meal. My carefully chosen probing question had failed to revile the sore spot that had her in a grump. I decided to try again, only this time I would take a more direct approach.

"It was a long journey today and you've only just recovered from you illness," I was thinking of how to proceed even as I spoke. "Are you feeling alright . . . if you're tired, don't feel obligated to sit up with me, go on to bed."

"_I am tired, but no more so than usual after a day on the trail,"_ she answered quietly.

Still nothing; yet I knew something was defiantly bothering her_. 'Directness_, _Cullen,'_ my inner voice chided, '_if you want a direct answer, ask a direct question_. _Else wise we could be at this game of cat and mouse all night, and Ayala needs to sleep.'_

I sighed loudly as I closed my book and set it aside. "Speak your mind, Little Deer; I would know what has you troubled."

She finally looked at me, confusion plainly written on her face, _"Why did you not tell me?"_

I felt one eyebrow automatically shoot up as I tried to fathom the meaning of her enigmatic question. What had I neglected to tell her . . . the last time she asked me that with such intensity, I had set fire to our home? A thousand possibilities tumbled through my mind, but only two seemed to stick out. The first was that she had finally figured out the truth of what I was, but that was highly unlikely. With the exception of the Sky Beings who wore Thunderman's rainbow, there wasn't anything remotely resembling vampires in the Sioux legends. The second possibility was more likely . . . she had been the one to pack our belongings for the journey and in the process; she had run across her father's journal which I still kept a secret from her.

"Ayala, my child, you must understand . . . I meant no harm in . . ." I began in my own defense but I was quickly cut off.

"_You did not tell me that I do not look like a child of the People anymore."_ She pulled the silver hand mirror from under her bed robes and gazed into its reflective surface. _"I look like . . . like you,"_ she muttered.

This was not what I had expected and I was unprepared for it. I had assumed that my sister had seen her own reflection before and knew that she didn't resemble the Natives.

'_But she looks even less like them now than she did last fall when you found her."_ my inner voice counseled, _"Remember the first day you saw her, even you mistook her for a Native girl. Her skin was a deeper bronze from days spent in the sun and she wore her hair in two thick plats wrapped in deer hide. Now look at her; she's much paler and her hair isn't kept in the traditional style.'_

It was true, of course, and when she wore the green cotton dress, she looked even less like a Native. She was looking more and more like she belonged to her eastern heritage. With each passing day, she looked less and less like the daughter of Red Pony and Ground Squirrel and more and more like the daughter of Nathanial and Ester Barraza.

While I didn't find this change troubling, Ayala obviously did. She was proud of her parents and her people and I surmised that the change in her appearance, brought with it a deep sense of disconnect with those she held dear. My mind scrambled to think of something comforting to say.

"In spite of his snowy winter coat, my child, Brother Hare is still Brother Hare." I insisted warmly. "Only his appearance changes to suit the seasons."

"_But you did not __**tell**__ me."_ She looked up from the image in the mirror and fixed my with her troubled jade eyes.

"Well," I sighed as I continued to fumble for words, "In truth, I didn't really take notice . . . thought looking at you now, the change is quite clear. I see you as Ayala, Little Deer, my beloved sister . . . truly I pay your physical appearance little heed . . . unless, of course, you look sick in which case I . . ."

"_You mean to say that you did not see it,"_ Her brow creased in confusion. _"You did not notice that I was growing as pale as a . . . as a Sky Being."_

That was a bit of an overstatement. Ayala still had a considerable amount of color to her complexion; I on the other hand could be described as positively ashen, as pale as white marble.

Then a thought occurred to me that I hoped would satisfy her, give her a new sense of connectedness, and cheer her up all at the same time. It was yet another lie, of course, but I was neck deep in them now and adding one more didn't seem so bad. It was frightening how easy lying to her became the more often I did it. In the distant fields of my mind, I wondered _when_ or _if_ they would ever come home to roost.

"Ayala, you are my sister," I soothed gently. "Would it not stand to reason then, that you would, overtime, come to resemble me . . . even if only to share in the paleness of my complexion." It was masterful, the notion that her return to a normal European cast was actually the result of our familial bond. Now if only she would accept it.

I watched her carefully as she considered my explanation. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she looked at me with wonder in her jade eyes. I knew, even before she spoke, that my fallacy had won her over. While I should have been relieved, I felt guilty instead . . . there had to be a special place in hell's dark pit for anyone who would lie so blatantly to someone as utterly innocent as Little Deer.

"_Will my eyes also turn golden like yours, Panther Eyes?" _

Her question ran me through to the core; it was like a white hot iron had been rammed through the very center of my chest and it seared my long dead heart with the most exquisite agony imaginable. What was I to say? It took me several moments to compose an answer.

"Well, I should think not," I replied as I picked up my book again and tried to appear busy. "Thought you are my sister and we will likely share some traits; you are not truly a child of Thunderman and so we will not look _exactly_ alike. I doubt, for example, that you shall ever wear my Father's rainbow robes . . . though I'm sure it would look absolutely stunning on you." Then I paused and added thoughtfully, "Besides, your eyes are the loveliest shade of green that I've ever seen, it would be a shame if they changed colors."


	23. Chapter 23

**Note:** I do not own or have rights to Twilight or its characters!!!!

Chapter 23

**Child of Earth and Sky**

Eventually, the course of the mighty Missouri River turned from southward to eastward as it meandered its way along towards St Lewis and its junction with the Father of Waters. Near this turning point in the river's course we passed another settlement consisting of a small fort and a little village. Not wishing to stop or be noticed, we passed the lonely outpost of humanity by night, giving it a wide berth.

The days passed in an indistinct blur; each one a repeat performances of their predecessors. Under Little Deer's constant ministration Willow was starting to warm up to me. Unlike her companion, Cloud, who grew thinner during our travels, the plump little brown horse remained plump and, in fact she seemed to grow plumper. This observation baffled me as she wasn't afforded any more grazing opportunities than Cloud.

With that thought still ruminating in my head, I roused my sister from her bed robes; the sun was starting to fall below the western horizon and we needed to prepare for the night's journey. It had taken me almost two weeks after leaving Fort Flint to rearrange her sleep schedule again. I watched with a twinge of sadness as she sleepy crawled from her nest, yawned, and fixed me with bleary green eyes. I knew she was still tired, that several days of uninterrupted rest would be very beneficial for her, but I wanted us as close to civilization as possible before the first snows of winter were upon us.

"Go and ready the horses," I told her softly, still feeling guilty for having awakened her. "I'll fix you something to eat."

With a sleepy nod she trotted off to the place where Cloud and Willow were securely picketed. I set the kettle near the fire to heat water for tea and another smaller pot of water to prepare her corn gruel in. Ayala liked to eat simply in the morning, reserving her heavier meals for later in the day.

I was just adding a measure of cornmeal to the gently bubbling pot when I heard my sister's whispered call. I set the pot away from the fire before going to see what the matter was. When I arrived at the place where she'd picketed the horses, Willow was lying on her side on the ground and breathing hard; a thick coat of lather clung to her shoulders and moisture darkening her coat to a deep muddy color. Little Deer was kneeling beside her, holding the mare's head in her lap.

"_She will have her baby now."_ Little Deer told me as I stood there gawking.

I couldn't shake the words from my thoughts; _she will have her baby now_, kept tumbling through the vastness of my mind. I struggled to focus my disjointed though into clinical mode. How could I have missed, for more than a month, the fact that Willow was in the final phase of pregnancy . . . an event that, for horses, lasted eleven months. How could I have not heard the faint yet distinct second heart beat thundering inside the golden-brown mare's swollen belly? I could clearly hear it now, of course . . . and my sister was right, before the rising of tomorrow's sun we would have a newborn in our midst.

'_You are an idiot, that's how,'_ my inner voice chided. _'Did you not, only this very afternoon, wonder how she remained so plump during our travels while Cloud became thinner?' _

"But that's impossible," I stammered as my mind continued to reel. "She's only been with us for a month and anyway, Cloud is a gelding. How could she possibly be pregnant, let alone about to give birth?" It wasn't a question meant for anyone but myself, but when I looked again at my sister she was crestfallen. My reaction wasn't what she expected or needed.

'_Pull yourself together, Doctor,'_ my inner voice insisted sternly. _'You have a patient in need of you services. And in answer to your preposterous question,'_ the voice continued, _'the mare was likely with foal when she was given to you. Had you been paying attention, you would have realized it sooner.'_

"_Carlisle,"_ Ayala's pleading whisper caught and held my attention. For the first time since arriving on the scene, I was able to make my limbs obey and I strode forward and knelt near the mare's damp flanks.

"Hold her head tightly, child, she's not going to like this." While Willow had grown more accepting of me since we acquired her, mares in the throes of labor were wildly unpredictable. I was a predator, and while Little Deer was blissfully unaware of this fact, animals instinctively knew it. My presence at this delicate time might make the placid brown mare think that her foal was in danger.

I began my examination by feeling the mare's abdomen and carefully listening to her heartbeat as well as the heartbeat of the foal. The mare's heart sounded strong, but the foal was clearly in distress. When I swept the mare's tail out of the way I instantly saw the cause of the problem; instead of a translucent white membrane protruding from the birth canal, the membrane looked like wet red velvet. If I didn't act quickly, the foal would parish before it took its first lung full of free air.

"Give me your belt knife." I insisted in a harsher tone than I intended. I was always sensitive and compassionate when it came to patient care, but with lives hanging in the balance, my tone to those around me often became surlier that I liked.

When I looked up to get the requested knife, my sister sat staring at me in horror. Her expression told me that she was trying to determine what manor of foul butchery I was about to engage in with her belt knife. Unfortunately, I didn't have the luxury of time enough to quell her fears. I would explain myself and apologies for my harshness later; for now, I need her compliance.

"The knife, child . . . _Now_!" I barked sternly. It was enough to shake her from her complacency and she did as I requested.

Moments later, after rupturing the membrane with Ayala's knife, I was in the process of delivering the endangered foal. I pulled the very weak youngling by its forelegs and shoulders from Willow's laboring body. Once she saw that I meant no harm with the knife, my sister snapped from her doldrums to assist me. She was now handing me fistfuls of dry grass with which to wipe the gore from the frail little creature. After a few minutes of vigorous stimulation, the limp black and white foal took a breath . . . and then another one . . . and then it began to squirm in an attempt to be free of my unwelcome molestation.

Like a good mother, Willow was there to be his savior. While I was busily working to get the infant to breath, the mare managed to get on her feet. She now nudged me aside, rather forcefully, with her huge brown head and proceeded to sniff and lick her offspring. As I am always the consummate gentleman, I willingly obliged her; relinquishing the infant into the capable care of its mother.

"_Boy or girl?"_ Ayala asked as she came to stand beside me.

With the urgency of all that had taken place, I hadn't bothered to look, but a casual deep breath in the form of a sigh gave me the answer. "We are now the proud aunt and uncle of a little colt," I replied as a deep sense of satisfaction welled up within me.

That sense of satisfaction was soon replaced by an unusual surge of paternal pride. It washed through me with heretofore unknown intensity as a watched Willow coaxing her son to his feet so that he might nurse. It had been my privilege, over the years, to deliver my fair share of babies . . . human ones of course, but these auspicious occasions did nothing to prepare me for the strong feelings that I was currently experiencing.

"Have you a name for him?" I inquired as I pushed the tumultuous sea of feelings that swirled within me aside.

She didn't answer me right away, but I wasn't surprised as Ayala put a considerable amount of thought into names. When I glanced her way, her expression told me that she was deep in thought.

"_Flint,"_ she finally whispered.

I smiled as I watched the little piebald colt greedily taking his first meal of warm rich mother's milk. As the touching moment unfolded before me, I pondered the name Ayala had bestowed upon him. Obviously this was in homage to the men of the fort who had given Willow to us. I also considered the source from which both the colt and the fort derived their names; a very hard stone prized by many for its usefulness to make tools and strike fires. As always, my sister had seceded in selecting an apropos name.

*******

In light of the birth of Willow's colt, I decided that we would remain encamped for several days. This would give the mare time to graze sufficiently to ensure an adequate milk supply as well as giving the little fellow a chance to nurse frequently and gain the necessary strength to follow his mother on the trail. It would also allow Ayala to get some extra rest. I had pushed our party hard over the course of the past few weeks, covering considerable ground each night.

I also insisted that in spite of our delay, my sister was to keep to her regular sleep schedule . . . that meant being awake at night and sleeping through the day. I assured her that I would keep a judicious eye on both Willow and Flint while she slept, then and only then would she crawl into her bed and go to sleep.

It was mid-day now, and I'd just returned from checking on mother and child . . . both were doing well. My eyes glanced skyward, watching the ever thickening clouds. The heat of the summer days brought rain in the late afternoons. I would have to devise some shelter for the foal to keep him dry as he was only a few hours old.

I took up the tomahawk from among the supplies and headed out of camp to cut some young saplings and branches to build a lean-to. Before I had made half dozen steps at human speed, the sound of an explosion followed by men shouting came to my ears. The commotion was coming from the direction of the river. I focused my hearing, trying to make out what the matter was; that was when the scent hit me, the rich metallic smell of fresh human blood. I grabbed the leather valise Thaddeus gave me and raced towards the sound of chaos.

When I broke from the trees just above the shoreline, men were staggering from the muddy water of the river. Further into the channel, a keelboat lay on her side, more than half submerged in the angry current. A fire raged near the bow of the vessel that would soon burn to the waterline; a few men were splashing river water on it in a feeble attempt to put out the flames.

The smell of blood accosted my nose again, setting me in motion with a new sense if urgency. I made a hasty introduction to a few of the dazed survivors before getting down to the business at hand. I categorized and prioritized the injured, allowing the healthy survivors to care for those who were only slightly injured. I gave them a few minor instructions and then moved on to the more serious cases. Thankfully there were only three of these.

By the time the chaos settled, one of my seriously injured patients was dead. As it turned out, he had been at the epicenter of the explosion. In fact, some of the men felt he might have been the cause of it; carelessly smoking his pipe to close to the stores of gun powder.

"Are you the man who claims to be a doctor?" A gravelly voice called from behind me as I made the final suture in my patient's forehead.

I turned to find a robust man dressed in buckskins with a full grey beard and shoulder length hair to match it walking with extreme porous towards me. "I am, sir," I bowed politely and added, "Dr. Cullen, at your service. However, I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage . . . you are?"

"Jebediah Claiborne," He replied proudly as he offered me his hand. "I own and captain this vessel . . . or what's left of it."

I looked down at my hands which were covered in the blood of my patients. It was a credible cover excuse not to except his hand of friendship; in reality I didn't wish him to notice my frosty touch on such a hot day, it would defiantly draw attention.

"Perhaps a handshake isn't the best idea at the moment, sir." I suggested with a frown.

He took note of my hands and nodded his agreement. "Quite true, sir . . . well, I would like to extend my thanks to you for your timely aid," he then bowed low before me, removing his hat as he did so. When he stood erect again he continued. "I fear, however that I'm not in a position to reimburse you for your services." He pointed to the mangled and mostly submerged hulk. "The strongbox and all hope of future profits in now lost to the greedy waters of the Missouri."

"Don't trouble yourself further on the issue," I began my usual dismissal. While I wasn't averse to the earning of money for my services, it wasn't the chief reason for which I entered into my profession. I was a doctor, first and foremost, to relieve, at least in part, the immeasurable sufferings of mankind. To make amends for the foul deeds of my brethren, by saving the lives those whom God granted me the privilege to save.

"I came to your aid simply . . ." My words were lost in a chorus of shouts as some new irritation stirred the men around me into action. By the sound of things and the sight of muskets being brought to the ready, I thought we might be under attack. Then her pain filled wail came to my ears ever as the smell of honeysuckle tickled my nose.

My keen eyes scanned the crowed gathering along the tree line until I spotted her; two burly boatmen had Ayala caught by the arms as they attempted to wrestle her into camp. Anger well up within me with heretofore unknown savageness. I left the boat captain standing on the muddy shore as I ran as fast as I dared toward my struggling sister.

"You there," I shouted angrily at the group of men as I approached. "Unhand my sister this instant!"

The startled pack of men parted to allow me passage, but the grizzly of a man and his cohort that held my sister paid no heed to my demand. Seeing me coming to her rescue, Ayala ceased her struggling though her expression remained a mask of furry.

"Are you deaf, sir, or are you a simpleton," I inquired in a huff. "Did you not hear my demand that you release my sister immediately?!"

Startled murmurs circulated among the men around me. It seemed that they were shocked that I would take such a tone with the behemoth before me. I had no fear of the brute, there wasn't anything on this side of hell that he could do to harm me. What I could do to him, on the other hand, was another matter entirely.

Before he could respond, the boat captain arrived on the scene. The atmosphere of upheaval among the men instantly quelled at his commanding presence. I stole a quick glance at Mr. Claiborne's face; his extreme displeasure was evident.

"What's going on here Sirius?" He asked the grizzle.

"I caught this squaw snoopn' around in the trees," he explained. "At first I thought she was spyn' on us, so her men folks could raid us after dark . . . but then I got a better look at her and remember the handbill they was passn' out back at Paw Tucker's Landing." With his free hand he rummaged in his possibles bag and retrieved a folded scrap of yellow-brown paper. "It's her I tell yea . . . the squaw what's wanted for murder."

Sirius handed the folded scrap to his captain and waited for judgment. The ghostly taste of bile rose up in the back of my mouth as I looked over the Mr. Claiborne's shoulder and read the cursed scrap for myself:

*

_**Wanted for murder:**__ One Sioux squaw by the name of Little Deer; in regards to the killing of her husband, Jack Savoy. Distinguishing feature; she lacks a tongue and is therefore unable to speak. She should be considered very dangerous, as she killed her husband by striking him in the head with a fireplace iron. One Hundred dollar reward for her capture alive, twenty-five dollars for her corps or any distinguishable part thereof. _

_*_

Below the words there was a cuddly drawn picture. The image was really quite nondescript; not really looking like Ayala, but not looking enough unlike her either. In fact, I had encountered numerous young women over the decades who looked more like the picture than my sister did. Still, given her current mode of dress, and her slight resemblance to the drawing, I could see that considerable convincing was in order.

"I aim to collect that reward, Captain," Then the behemoth sneered at Ayala, "And have a nice warm bed, until I turn her in at the next fort, to boot."

My vision turned crimson and my body trembled with rage at his lurid suggestion; no man would ever misuse my sister . . . not if they wished to live. It took several deep breaths before I was in control of myself again.

Claiborne's gaze fell upon me, his expression one of expectance as he awaited my explanation. I quickly pulled together our cover story; the lie fell with unmatched easy from my masterful lips.

"I am Dr. Carlisle Cullen and this is my sister, Ayala." My hot stair darted to Sirius briefly as I suppressed a savage growl. "We have come to this newly opened land from Virginia. I intend to seek my fortune out here, but as Ayala is in my permanent charge, I couldn't help but bring her along."

Sirius laughed at my explanation. "Dr. Squaw-man; this girl don't look anything like you . . . if she's your sister I'm a wooly buffalo."

I suppressed the urge to say something sarcastic and continued my oration instead. "We share the same father, but different mothers." I explained. It was taking a supreme effort on my part to keep calmness and civility in my voice. I found explaining myself to this uncouth individual a most distasteful and degrading chore. "My mother died of a fever when I was only two years of age, my Father married Ayala's mother later on."

"What do you have to say, young lady?" Claiborne inquired of Ayala. My sister fixed me with dread filled eyes; I tried to look reassuring as I took up in her defense.

"My sister has not uttered a word since she was five." Even as I spoke, Claiborne glared angrily at me; mine was not the voice he wished to here. "There was an accident; Ayala was running through the house with a cake knife in her mouth when she tripped and fell on it. Luckily the knife didn't impale her skull and kill her, but the blade partly severed her tongue. Our Father, a surgeon of considerable skill, was unable to repair the damage and so he was forced to complete the amputation." I looked sadly at Ayala, partly for show and partly as an apology for want of a better cover lie. "She has been as silent as the grave ever since."

"No tongue!" Sirius bellowed, pointing one sausage like finger at the pamphlet in Claiborne's hand. "It's her I tell you, it's the murdern' squaw!"

As I watched my helpless sister vehemently shake her head, I felt a sudden wave of power waft off of her. The purity and innocence that suffused me further intensified the protectiveness that I was already feeling. My poor sister was an innocent lamb that I would willingly commit countless atrocities in order to protect. I found myself unconsciously plotting which man before me, I would fall upon first. I had the whole bloody scheme planed out in minute detail before I caught myself.

As I shook off the gravitation of my sister's gift, I took notice of the men around me. I could easily tell who was under her powerful influence and who was not. Those that had succumbed to her gift looked at her with soft eyes filled with what I could only describe as, adoration. The expression of the other's remained unchanged; among these were Sirius and Claiborne.

"You have to admit, Doctor, the evidence is rather incriminating." Claiborne sighed as he crossed his arms.

"What evidence do you refer to Captain; a nondescript and crudely drawn picture and the lustfully overactive imagination of your crewman?" I scoffed. "That hardly seems like evidence to me. Besides, the pamphlet clearly indicates that the accused is a Sioux squaw . . . Ayala hardly fits that description. Natives have black hair, brown eyes, and bronze skin. My sister's hair is brown, her eyes are green, and her complexion is olive. Why, with your attention to detail, you could presumably round up half the young girls from her to St Lewis and turn them in for the reward, conduct your very own witch hunt, you'll all be rich when you're done."

"Why don't we test her?" and obscure voice suggested from the crowed. "So she can't talk, alright fair enough. If she's really the well breed daughter of a Virginia doctor, she ought to be educated, but if she's a squaw, then she wouldn't know to read and write."

"A capital idea, Banks," Claiborne hummed. "One of you men go and find something for the young lady to write with and then we'll see what the truth is."

Soon, Ayala was seated on a driftwood log with a bit of charcoal in one hand and a slightly damp scrap of paper salvaged from the ship's ledger in the other. I was suddenly very that glad that I had insisted on her education. Those cold months of hard work were about to bear their first fruits.

She looked up at me with confusion dancing in her eyes. "Your name," I suggested lightly.

In confident, well practiced script she wrote her name; Ayala Cullen. When she looked up from the paper, her face radiated sheer joy.

"Even plantation slaves can be taught to write their names." Sirius grumped. "That don't mean their educated."

"Write something else." Claiborne insisted.

Ayala entered into a state of deep thought and I entered into a state of equally deep trepidation. While she could write quite well, copying from printed sources or jotting brief little notes, I hadn't taught her formal composition. I feared we were about to be undone.

What flowed next from the stub of charcoal in her hand astounded me? The verse would have brought me to tears, if I were capable of them, with its simple yet eloquent beauty?

*

_Father Sky above my head, Mother Earth beneath my feet, and I, their beloved child, walks boldly between them. I have no need to be afraid, nor do I suffer with want for anything. Danger flees before my Father's wrath as lightning bolts dance at his command. All that I require; food, clothes, shelter, and comfort are bounteous gifts freely given to me by my Mother. Contentment is mine, peace is mine, love is mine; I am the child of Father Sky and Mother Earth and I walk boldly between them. _

*

She paused at the end of the last sentence and looked up at me, her eyes glistened with moisture even as they asked silently; _is that enough, my Brother?_ I smiled down at her warmly; pride swelling to the bursting point within me and spilling out to beam from my face.

"That will do, Ayala," I whispered softly, "that will most defiantly do."


	24. Chapter 24

**Note: **I do not own or have rights to Twilight or its characters!!!

Chapter 24

**Birthright**

Ayala's verse was enough to convince Claiborne and most of his men that she was indeed, my sister; the educated daughter of a Virginia surgeon and not the _'murdern' squaw'_ described in the pamphlet. Only Sirius and a few others remained truly unconvinced. The grizzly of a boatman watched us with hard spite filled eyes as we left the scene of the capsized keelboat to return to our own camp. When we arrived, I immediately instructed my sister to ready the horses. It wouldn't do for us to linger in a place with suspicious men so nearby.

I thought she would object, on account of Flint, but she obeyed without complaint. By late afternoon we were traveling again. The clouds I'd watched gather all day opened up at twilight. The downpour was heavy but brief and caused us only a slight delay. Ayala paid close attention to little Flint; rounding him up when curiosity caused him to stray too far our motley herd and insuring that I didn't set to difficult a pace.

By morning we'd made adequate progress away from the scene of the calamity. In the pale grey pre-dawn I selected a campsite and we lay in for the day. By the time Ayala finished with the horses, I had a fire made and had one of the two hares I caught earlier in the night spitted and roasting near the flames. As I watched her arrange the buffalo robes that made up the snug nest she slept in, my mind drifted once more to the grubby scrap of paper that was nearly our undoing.

Undoubtedly my sacrifice of our home had been in vain. My fervent hope that the burned out shell would convince Jack's brother Henry that Ayala was dead, now lay dashed at my feet. He was still in pursuit of his revenge, and now I had to contend with the reality that others would know this twisted tale by virtue of those cursed pamphlets.

The other thing that had plagued my thoughts all night was the description of how Jack had died. Ayala told me that, in a drunken stupor he attempted to beat her, tripped, fell, and hit his head on the fireplace mantel. The pamphlet indicated that he had been struck in the head with the fireplace poker. Perhaps it was a lie fabricated by an anger Henry to stir the public ire and thus facilitate Little Deer's capture, or perhaps there was more to the story that Ayala was telling me.

The later notion troubled me. Not once, since we formed our little family, had I ever known Ayala to tell an outright lie. In fact, give her pure and innocent nature; a doubted deceit was possible for her. If asked a direct question, she would give a direct and honest answer . . . even in situations where a healthy lie would be in her best interest.

I continued to ponder these issues as my sister turned the spitted hare, checking on the progress of its cooking. I needed to know precisely what happened the night of Jack's death, but asking her would be difficult. This would require the upmost care on my part, as I didn't wish her to think that I held any malice towards her regarding the issue.

"Ayala," I began in a soothing tone. It was a few moments before I found the rest of the words I needed. "I don't mean to pry, as I am sure that the subject must cause you no end of pain, but . . . what exactly happened the night of Jack's death."

She had been looking at me as I asked the question, when my voice fell silent, her eyes dropped to the ground before her. In answer to me, she merely shook her head. Then a sudden surge of her power flowed through me, and I felt the strong desire not to question her further. I pushed the force of her influence aside and focused myself.

I felt deeply sorry for her, there was no denying that, and I wished with all my heart that we didn't have to engage in this unpleasant conversation. Whatever the outcome of it, I wouldn't love her any less nor would I hold her actions against her. I sighed softly, this was going to be more difficult that I first imagined.

'_She likely sees your question as an acquisition,'_ my inner voice offered.

I should have considered that, I mused. I would have to be more delicate as I pressed her further.

"You have my unfailing love and loyalty my child," I insisted. "No matter what you might tell me, it will not, in any way, tarnish my affection for you nor will I ever divulge that information to anyone. What is said her tonight is between you and me and the Creator; it will go no further."

"_You believe I am guilty?"_

It was as I had feared; my inquiry was coming across as an accusation. "Not at all," I dismissed as I came to sit beside her so that I could offer her my comfort. I would have to tread more cautiously as continued to question her. "It's just that . . . uhm, well . . . your explanation of the events of that dreadful night were rather vague. I would like to hear the story in more detail." I paused and then added, "As I am your Keeper, and therefore the defender of your honor, knowing _precisely _what happed will make defending you easier."

She was silent again and I watched the play of emotions dance across her features as she considered her answer. Finally she took a deep breath and whispered her reply. _"In truth, Panther Eyes . . . the spirit of Whit Stage came upon me that night and I do not remember much of what happened."_

Now I was truly concerned. The spirit of White Stage had proven itself to be her defending inner spirit, rising up to overcome her completely and dictate her actions without her knowledge. Back at the fort, that same inner spirit had welled up to soundly thrash two fully trained soldiers. Those men had only _attempted _to accost her; Jack Savoy had beaten, brutalized, and raped Ayala on a daily basis.

"Tell me what you do remember," I encouraged gently.

As she gathered herself to speak, a strange stillness settled over our camp; nothing stirred, not even the insects and birds. The only sounds that interrupted the unnatural quiet were the crackle of our campfire and the thrum of my sister's heart. She reached oven and took hold of my hand, seeking a closer form of comfort. I did not deny her as I gave her hand a brief reassuring squeeze.

After a quick sideways glance at me, she took a breath and began her story.

"_I was in bed asleep when Jack came home that night; he was even drunker than usual. He woke me from my sleep, shouting and cursing at me for being a lazy squaw. He insisted that I must get up and cook for him, __**now**__, because he was hungry and because that was what 'worthless, good for nothing squaws' like me were supposed to do._

"_Not wishing to anger him further, I crawled from my bed and went to the hearth to prepare his meal. I stirred the coals and added extra wood to bring up the fire, but as I set the pot of water over the growing flames he began to complain about how slow I was. I ignored his constant groaning and went about my business; such angry words seemed always to be upon his lips. I never heard him speak a kind word to me; always I was the stupid, lazy, slothful squaw . . . that or the good for nothing Sioux whore._

"_After I dropped the chunks of dried elk meat into the pot to boil and get soft, I started peeling potatoes to go in the stew. I saw something move out of the corner of my eye and when I turned, he was collecting his razor strap from where it hung on the wall._

"'_You slothful Sioux she-dog,' he bellowed as he staggered towards me. Then he grabbed me by the hair and slung me over the table. 'Let's see if a taste of my strap will light a fire of haste under you.'_

"_He started hitting me; the more I screamed and struggled, the harder his strap would come down. As he landed blow after blow, he keep taunting me, calling me she-dog and camp dog and insisting that if I was going to act like a lazy cur, then he would beat me like one._

"_**I am no man's dog!**__ The words were like fire as they formed in my mind, and I kept chanting them over and over to myself with each blow he laid on me, until they became a war song. That's when I felt him, White Stage, rise up within me. 'This will end tonight, little sister! No child of the People should have to endure such abuse.' That was what White Stage said to me, and then everything went black."_

I found the details of her story both heart breaking and infuriating. I felt nothing but deep compassion for the hell that Ayala had been forced to endure; not just once, but every day of her life for a whole year. I was quite sure she had edited much of what she had shared with me about her abuse at the hands of the Savoy brothers; as much out of her own embarrassment as her desire not to upset me. Tonight too no doubt, she had edited her account, but this was the rawest story of her treatment that I'd heard to date.

I pushed the tempest tossed sea of my emotions aside; there would be time enough to deal with them later. Sensing she needed comfort, I moved a little closer and wrapped one arm around her shoulders. She leaned into me then, snuggling against my side as she began to sob. For a time I simply held her; whispering my love and comfort to her as she cried. When she was calm again, I asked her the next obvious question.

"What do remember next, child?" I instantly hated myself for having asked, but it was necessary.

"_The next thing I remember,"_ She began between sniffles_. "I was standing in the middle of the cabin and Jack was lying in the floor near the fireplace. There was blood on his head . . . and on the floor near his head. He was not moving and when I got brave enough to go near him he was not breathing. He was dead." _Then she turned her face up and her tear swollen eyes meat mine. _"It is true then, Panther Eyes . . . what those men said, I am a murdering squaw . . . I killed Jack?"_

I was at a loss. It was likely true that she had been the instrument of Jack's death, but at the same time I couldn't say that with any degree of certainty. It was indeed quite possible that, in his inebriated state, he had stumbled into the mantle, hit his head, and died. The evidence of her story was inconclusive.

'_You're missing the point Cullen, there is a larger issue here,'_ my inner voice chided in a tired growl. _'We hold these truths to be self-evident that all men are created equal; that they are endowed by their Creator with certain inalienable rights; that among these are Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness.' _

The eloquent words of Thomas Jefferson declaration of the rights of man rung like a bell in my mind and then I remembered Ayala's verse from earlier, _I am a child of Father Sky and Mother Earth and I boldly walk between them. _

I sighed even as I smiled; in my bumbling fool's quest to uncover the _'facts'_, I had, indeed, missed the point. Ayala was still leaning against my side, sniffling after her bout of tears and, I suspected, feeling frightfully guilty. There was no cause for her to feel so, save me and my insensitive prying, of course.

"Little Deer," I whispered as my free hand moved to gently stroke her hair. "You are not a murderer; you have committed no offence in the sight of the Creator. In fact," I paused to tip her chin so that she would look at me, "As you so poignantly asserted in your verse yesterday, you are the child of Mother Earth and Father Sky and as such you have been granted an inheritance; birthrights that are common to all creatures who claim the paternity of Earth and Sky. Among these blessings, is the right to vigorously defend the life which you have been granted?

"In other words, my precious, even if, through the working of White Stag's spirit in you, yours was the hand that slew Jack, you are not culpable for his death. Your life was in immediate danger and you acted purely in self-defense."

I continued to hold her gaze for the span of several heartbeats as I measured her reaction to my words. I hoped it would be enough to undo the damage wrought by the pamphlet, and more immediately, by me. I was relieved when I felt her body relax, as she slumped wearily into me again, but I continued to be concerned by the lack of consolation in her expression.

"What have I missed?" I asked, trying to search her face and eyes for some clue.

_"It was just a beating, Panther Eyes,"_ she insisted as she dropped her gaze in embarrassment. _"He had done this many, many times before. He did not threaten to kill me . . . he hurt me, but how could my life have been in danger?"_

"Every beating Jack Savoy ever inflicted upon you had the potential of being you last." I stated plainly even as I tried not to sound harsh. "Perhaps he wouldn't have killed you . . . that night . . . but rest assured, it would have happened eventually. Make no mistake, Ayala, there was a clear and present danger to your life so long as you remained in Jack Savoy's care."

She remained silently snuggled beside me. She was deep in thought, considering all that I had said. Finally, with a sleepy yawn, she nodded her acceptance of my argument. Relief washed trough me and I sighed loudly. I gave her a gentle hug and planted an overdue kiss on the crown of her head.

"Eat your supper now," I encouraged in a tone that was far too patriarchal, even for my liking. I softened it as I continued, "Then off to bed with you. I can see your exhaustion, and we have a long road ahead of us again tonight."

"_I love you, Panther Eyes,"_ she whispered so softly that, even with my acute hearing, I nearly missed it.

I felt my throat grow strangely tight at both her affirmation of affection and the wave of pure innocent love that wafted off of her and flowed with unchecked force into me. I kissed her crown again and whispered my affection in response, "I love you too, my child."

In all my lonely years of restless wandering, I never thought that it was possible to know this level of completeness. The only thing, I surmised, that might surpass the current state of blissful contentment and wholeness that I felt at having Ayala in my life, would be to find my life mate. Perhaps one day, Almighty God would grant me that miracle too.


	25. Chapter 25

**Note: **I do not own or have rights to Twilight or it's Characters!!!

_This is a short little chapter I've been working on for a while now. It touches on a very important and violently controversial issue of the eairly 1800's . . . slavery. Need I say more?_

_Anyhow, enjoy!!_

**Chapter 25**

Our epic odyssey made it as far as St. John's Crossing, before I deemed it necessary to stop and make preparations for the winter. I had hoped to reach St. Lewis, but the time we tarried at Fort Flint set us considerable behind.

It was a quiet little town nestled of the banks of the Missouri river, complete with a fort and a small military hospital. While I didn't intend for us to stay beyond the cold bleak months to come, I went ahead and purchased a modest tract of land west of the city; a hundred and sixty acres complete with what the surveyor claimed was a farmhouse. A stream ran through it which would insure ample game and it was very secluded a thing that both Ayala and I appreciated. I would sell the acquisition later and use the profit to build my sister the house that I promised her.

After leaving the surveyor's office, my sister and I went down to the town's only mercantile store. There I purchased a few supplies and established a line of credit with the store owner. By the time we were ready to leave the muddy little town, it was late afternoon. The last thing I did before we turned westward towards our newly acquired home was to drop by the shed sized post office to drop off some correspondences. One was to a personal friend back in Boston inquiring if he would mind looking after my personal effects until I sent word that they should be shipped to me, and one was to my solicitor with information concerning Ayala's family. I was hoping my lawyer could track down more information on my sister's remaining relations.

As I came back out of the post office, Ayala seemed nervous. She hadn't exactly been calm and relaxed since we arrived in St John's, but now she stood almost trembling between Cloud, Willow, and Flint. In the distance, the sound of men shouting and the crack of a bullwhip cut the late afternoon air. When I looked down the street, a thunderous man mounted on a wire thin bay horse was driving a ragged group of desolate and dejected humans before him . . . slaves.

There was no institution on earth more vile and detestable than that of slavery. The practice where by one branch of humanity's great tree kept their brethren from another branch in eternal misery and bondage sickened me to the very core of my being. At heart, I was a fervent abolitionist but I kept my militant views to myself so as not to draw unwanted attention and risk exposure. With a deep sigh, I took my sister by the elbow and began leading her and our little herd away from the deplorable scene.

"_Are they criminals?"_ Ayala asked as we passed the wrenched band of chained and frightened men and women.

I shook my head, trying not to look at the group as they passed. The sight of their suffering hurt my heart too much. "Their only _crime_ is the circumstance of their birth . . . to have been born in this present cruel age and to have their origin in the land of Africa. These are the indictments set against them for which they and their progeny shall suffer in bondage until the merciful hand of death gives them release."

"_I do not understand,"_ she whispered. Her eyes remained fixed to the poor doomed souls as she tried to puzzle things out.

I hustled her along past a group of frontiersmen discussing business in front of the town tavern. When I was sure we were well out of earshot I made my feeble attempt at explaining the atrocity which she had been witness to.

"They are . . . slaves," I told her in a hushed tone. I knew she would have some limited understanding of the term, if only from our reading of Defoe's novel together.

"_Like Friday, from the book,"_ she inquired as a confused scowl twisted her face.

I nodded even as I attempted to keep us moving, I didn't wish to linger further in St. John's at the moment.

"_But, did you not tell me that,"_ she paused, glancing back over her shoulder at the disheveled group of humans marching chained together. The sound of the biting whip split the air again and I felt my sister tremble with both fear and rage. I hustled her forward towards the western edge of town.

"_Did you not say that it is wrong to keep men as slaves . . . that the Creator weeps for his children who suffer in bondage?"_ she whispered in a ferial growl when her composure returned.

"I did," I affirmed in a low tone. I could not deny the truth of my own words because to do so would be sheer hypocrisy.

"_Then we must help them,"_ came her insistent reply_. "We should go back and make the man with the whip set them free."_

"I wish it were that easy, my child," The words escaped me accompanied by a dark chuckle. In order to maintain control of the situation, I gently lifted Ayala up and set her, side-saddle, on Cloud's back. With the gilding's reins firmly in hand I continued to walk on.

For a time we traveled in silence and I thought the discussion of the distasteful matter of slavery was finished. I should have known better, however, as Ayala was an avid ruminator. She had spent the past few miles chewing the matter over in her sharp little mind.

"_Then, as a son of Thunderman and a Sky Being, you would do nothing for the cause of the Creator's children who suffer in bondage,"_ she asked sharply, _"you would do nothing for the slaves?"_

"It is a very complex issue, Ayala," I dismissed with an irritated sigh. I wasn't annoyed with my sister, but rather I was irritated by the fact that there was little that I could do directly on the issue.

"_My brother is wise and a good teacher, perhaps he will explain to his sister this . . . complex issue."_

I suddenly found myself smiling; it wasn't the first time my sister had used this gentle yet formal way of insisting on something. I set myself to the task of formulating an explanation; as I turned the problem over in my mind I soon realized that the sticking point of the elucidation had less to do with overall complexity as opposed to being a matter of context. Eventually I was able to postulate an explanation couched in terms that I felt Ayala would understand.

I took a deep breath and the let it out slowly, "First, I feel that I must restate my position on this grave issue: I am a _devout abolitionist_. The institution of slavery is a malodorous stench in the nostrils of the Creator . . . it is abhorrent and an abomination and it should be utterly outlawed from one end of the earth to the other. However, it is not such an easy task, as there are certain complexities involved."

I glanced up at her and found her paying strict attention to me. The medical students I attended University with weren't half as attentive as my sister. I could feel the keen edge of her scalpel sharp mind poised to eviscerate my well thought out explanation.

"The men who own and keep slaves consider these poor individuals as their personal property, like they would their cow or their horse. To talk of outlawing the practice of keeping slaves, in their minds, is an assault on their livelihood and their rights as citizens to hold and maintain property.

"Would you not feel threatened and outraged if someone insisted that you should set Cloud, Willow, and Flint free; that it is wrong to keep them and force them to bear your labors and burdens? Would you not be even more enraged if laws were proposed to force you to free your horses and to make owning them a crime?"

It was an unfair and unrealistic comparison; equating the ownership of another human being to that of owing livestock, but I felt that it was an illustration that Ayala would more readily grasp. I paused and glance up at her to read her reaction and found her deep in contemplation. When she took the time to ponder a subject this deeply, the outcome was generally of two forms; one, another difficult question to compound the first one, thereby forcing me to formulate another brilliant answer. Or two, she would astound me with the utterance of a simply yet elegant universal truth; sagely wisdom from the mouth of an innocent child.

"_The Sacred Dog is a gift from the Creator, Panther Eyes,"_ she finally replied after a time. Her hand went to Cloud's neck and she patted him affectionately. _"They are our helpers and our partners; the People do not own them. It is impossible to own another living creature; a creature that has a soul and whose life was breathed into them by the mouth of the Creator._

"_They belong only to themselves and to the Creator, so how then can anyone else say that you own them?_

"_If a man was to say to me, you should set Cloud, Willow, and Flint free, it is wrong to own a horse; I would agree with his and say to him, 'they are already free, as I do not own them.'"_

Sagely wisdom was the outcome this time, and I found myself chuckling. I had forgotten about the Native people's concepts on ownership of property and the sacredness of all life. Ever creature had a spirit, a soul, not just humans, but animals as well. Taken in this context, my example was rendered null and void. Though I hated having to do it, I was going to have to assume the prickly role of devil's advocate . . . I was going to have to take a harder line, in order to make her understand.

"Partners and helpers you say," I repeated her words, "and you do not own them." I glanced up and watched her nod her head in answer. What I was about to say would likely hurt her feelings, but she had to understand. "And yet . . . do you not picket them every night when we make camp and even hobble them sometimes? That doesn't sound like freedom to me. In fact, I'm not so sure you would view _me _as favorably as you do if I tied _you_ to a tree and bound _your_ feet at bedtime."

I watched with great sadness as a frown spread across Ayala's face. Perhaps I should have been gentler, perhaps I should have injected less crassness into my voice; I didn't mean to sting her so deeply. As I was considering my apology, she perked up in the saddle.

"_It is for their protection that they are picketed at night,"_ she insisted defiantly, _"so that they do not wander off and get lost . . . or eaten by Brother Bear." _

Her intractable spirit had risen up, once again, to impress me. I couldn't help but be pleased by the noble fire that burned with in her; which only made dousing it with the icy waters of reality that much more difficult for me.

"I suppose it might be fair to say then, that it is for the slave's benefit that they are chained," I offered in return. "After all, who knows what manor of danger and calamity might befall them if they were allowed to run amuck."

She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at me briefly before turning her face away. I could hear the irritated growl rumbling deep in her throat . . . the low rumble was not typically a human vocalization; it was more characteristic of my race and hearing it from my very human sister still shocked me.

'_That was more than a little heavy handed, don't you think?'_ my inner voice hissed. _'I mean honestly Cullen, it's a stretch just comparing slaves to horses, but what about the rest . . . tying her to a tree at bedtime and slaves in chains for the benefit of their own safety . . . that's pushing things entirely too far.'_

Indeed, perhaps my inner voice was right. I stopped walking, bringing the progress of our little band to a halt. Just as gently as I placed her there, I removed Ayala from Cloud's back; standing her in front of me on her own two feet.

"I'm sorry child," I soothed. "I was trying to illustrate a point, but I took the harsh tone of my exposition too far to the extreme. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings or make light of your beliefs." Then I added in the same soft soothing tone, "I only wished to make real for you the mentality of those who keep men in bondage. It is this dark and twisted sort of thinking that we, who wish to abolish the cursed institution, must deal with. The men who keep slaves see the ownership of property, even human property, as their right and our efforts to end slavery as both an encroachment on those rights as well as a threat to their livelihood."

I paused here and when next I spoke, I allowed a healthy measure of seriousness to tint my voice. I wanted there to be on mistaking the gravity of what I was about to insist upon.

"It is also, why I feel compelled to warn you; do not directly interfere with the slaves or those who own them, to do so would very dangerous." I tipped her chin up so that I could capture her gaze. I hated doing this, but I had to insist on her obedience in this matter. "You are a very good girl, Ayala. You've never given me a moment's trouble in spite of your boldly independent nature. I know I don't tell you this nearly as often as I should, but _you are good_ and I appreciate that.

"That is why I rarely make it a point of _demanding_ your compliance with my wishes. In this matter, however, I feel that I must demand it. This is as much for your safety as it is for mine. _Leave the slaves and those who keep them alone, avoid them at all cost!_ Do you understand me child, will you promise me your obedience in this matter?"

With a reluctant sigh she nodded her head, but that wasn't enough for me. "No child, I'm afraid that a nod of the head will not suffice this time. I need to hear you say the words . . . I need to hear you make the promise."

"_I promise Panther Eyes,"_she whispered solemnly, _"that I will leave the slaves and those who keep them alone . . . but only because it is you who has asked it of me. You are wiser in the ways and customs of the people of the east; I trust your wisdom and judgment."_

I pulled her into my arms and embraced her; the implicit trust she afforded me was a gift . . . and one that I did not take lightly. "Thank you child," I whispered into her hair. "I will endeavor always and in all things to be worthy of your confidence."

**AN:** I guess I should clairify; Ayala and Carlisle came into St. John's Crossing durining the day so it must be cloudy :)~. Second, _is there or was there _a town in Missouri along the Missouri River in the early 1800's called St. John's Crossing . . . I don't know. I intended it to be a made up place, but I guess it could be real.


	26. Chapter 26

**Note: I do not own or have rights to Twilight or it's characters!**

**Chapter 26**

**Visitations**

Qualified physicians with surgical skills were in short supply in the wild interior of America. This being the case, I had no trouble at all in securing employment at St. John's Army Hospital. For the past two months I had faithfully looked after my patients on the night shift. It was quiet yet fulfilling work that allowed me ample time during the day to spend with my sister.

Recently I had added music to Ayala's lessons. While in town one evening I acquired my instrument of choice, the violin, from a peddler. I was a violin virtuoso in my own right as I had learned to play it along with a number of other instruments, during my University years. Unfortunately my sister wasn't as taken with the violin's complex harmonies as I and so a few days later I purchased a parlor guitar for her instead. She seemed to like the smooth mellow sound of the guitar much better. Finding appropriate sheet music, however, proved another difficult and I was forced to transpose pieces I'd played before from memory. In spite of these adversities, Ayala was an appt student and we enjoyed playing together.

As I stood before the mirror in my bedroom, dressing for my evening shift, I listened to Ayala practicing a Vivaldi guitar concerto we had been working on together. I smiled as lustrous notes danced from my sisters fingertips to fill the small farmhouse. After one last check of my reflection, a left my bedroom and descended the stairs to the living room.

"That was very good," I encouraged her heartily. "You're playing improves by the day." Her sudden blush did not escape my notice, and I knew that my presence and the unexpected boom of my voice had startled her. I flashed my best apologetic smile.

"Is Cloud ready?" I asked as I took up my hat. She came to my side then, holing my coat over her arm and my medical bag in her hands.

"_He is saddled and waiting for you,"_ she whispered as I took my coat from her.

"Is something wrong?" I inquired as I took note of her thoughtful frown.

"_You look better without that foolish hat."_

I smiled at her as I tended to agree, but as a man of profession and station, a hat was expected. "I assure you, this isn't the silliest hat I've ever donned . . . and you should see me in a wig," I chuckled as I shook my head. "I'm absolutely dreadful."

My lighthearted dismissal did nothing to alleviate her somber disposition. "More that my ridicules hat has you troubled . . . won't you tell me about it?"

She dropped her gaze and my concern increased tenfold. _"I wish you did not have to go tonight,"_ she whispered shyly. _"I have a bad feeling and I am afraid for my brother." _

"Have you been visited by White Stag again," I asked as I gently took hold of her shoulders; I had insisted that she promises to tell me of such visitations.

She answered me by shaking her head, _"He has not come to me since we settled here, I do not know why." _She whispered. I could easily make out her dejection at not being visited by her guardian. _"Please stay tonight brother; I am very afraid for you."_

I pulled her into my arms and lightly kissed the crown of her head. Ayala's concern was frightfully touching, especially after years of lonely isolation and the constant ridicule of my father's crass disembodied voice. I held her for several minutes and whispered soothing words into her hair before I reluctantly released her.

"Now listen to me," I insisted gently as I lifted her chin so that her eyes meet mine. "You have absolutely no reason to ever fear for my safety. I am a Sky Being, Little Deer. I am immortal . . . there is no force on this side of the Sky World that can harm me."

"_You truly cannot die?"_ wonder danced in her eyes as she asked this.

I stroked her cheek with the pad of my thumb as I considered how best to answer her. Finally I decided on my response; if Aro could hear me, he would likely kill us both on the spot. "There is only one way to destroy a Sky Being," I began with a sigh. Admitting our one and only weakness to a human was treason of the most egregious nature. Even though I would edit the truth slightly, it was still a high crime, but it was one that I was about to willingly commit for my sister's peace of mind. "I must be struck by Thunderman's lightning bolt which would shatter my body into many, many pieces. Those pieces must then be gathered up and burned until nothing but ash remains. This is the only way to kill a Sky Being.

"No weapon forged by the ephemeral hands of mortal men can cause me harm." I insisted as bent and kiss her forehead. "Had I the time, I would offer you a very compelling demonstration of this fact, but as it stands now I'll likely be late for my shift." I took my bag from her then and turned towards the door. "It's going to be very cold tonight, child, and if I'm not much mistaken there will be snow on the ground by morning. Make sure there are enough blankets on your bed to keep you warm through the dark hours."

As my hand brushed the knob, I felt her slam into my side, throwing her arms around me once more. Her behavior was very disconcerting, and I could feel the unusually strong pull of her gift willing me to remain. I was sorely tempted to give in to the seduction of her gift, but there were others who needed me.

"Ayala," I sighed, I didn't really want to push her away, to discourage her unabashed outpouring of affection. However, I needed to be on my way as I needed time to make a quick hunt before going to the hospital. "I must go now, child," I insisted in a firm yet gentle tone. "I will see you in the morning and, if the snow isn't too deep and the sky is still overcast, we can go for a nice long post breakfast stroll along the creek." My sister thoroughly enjoyed our excursions together and it was a pleasure watching her explore the world.

Reluctantly she released me and then stepped away so that I could open the door. Her still somber expression continued to concern me. I knew she disliked it when I went away to work, but her reaction to my leaving wasn't usually this strong. I put my anxious musings aside as I stepped out into the cold evening air. With a distressed sigh, I started towards the fence post when Cloud waited patiently for me.

About two miles from the cabin I stopped and made a brief but very successful hunt before returning to the place where I left Cloud securely tied. It was nice, for a change, to have a horse that tolerated my presence enough to let me ride. Though I didn't need the transportation, it added a new dimension of believability to my illusion of humanity.

As I approached the placid grey gelding he suddenly threw his head in the air and screamed as he tried to rear up. I was shocked by his sudden skittish behavior; he hadn't reacted this way to me since last winter when we first met. The closer I got to him the more irritated he became and I surmised that he must detect the scent of blood and death on me from my hunt.

"Steady on, old thing," I soothed quietly as I attempted to move closer. "You know me and you know that I won't hurt you." Cloud continued to behave erratically as I drew near, bucking and pulling at his tether. I was very much afraid I would have to leave him tied there and come back for him in the morning.

"Settle down now; if you hurt yourself, Little Deer will never forgive me," I continued. I was about to untie his lead rope and let him run home when the sound of something large moving through the trees set me on alert.

The smell of honeysuckle filled the night air and I grumbled under my breath. She knew better than to follow me, it was one of my most stringent rules . . . one that I had repeatedly mentioned to her. I turned to face the direction of the noise and scanned the darkness for any sign of my sister. Everything was still, and in spite of my inhuman eyesight, I couldn't see anything beyond shadows and trees.

"Come out and show yourself, Ayala," I called angrily. I was furious. What if she'd stumbled across me while I was tracking my prey or while I was in the uncontrollable throes of blood lust as I fed; a thousand gory images of her mangled and drained body danced through my fertile imagination.

"Come out, I say," I called again, this time more sternly. "You're in enough trouble as it is young lady . . . _do not_ make things worse for yourself by continuing to hide from me."

Stillness was my answer and it caused my furry to increase. "To me, Ayala . . . now, before my ire grows any hotter," I barked into the still night air.

Suddenly there was stirring again in the darkness among the trees. For the briefest of moments I considered what recourse I would take regarding my sisters wayward behavior. However, before I could decide on appropriate disciplinary measures, a blinding white light flooded the small clearing and the luminous form of a snowy stag erupted from the trees. It was the largest and most intimidating specimen of _Odocoileus virginianus_ I'd ever seen.

There before me, in all his otherworldly glory, stood Ayala's spirit guardian . . . White Stag.

I hadn't felt a chill creep up my spine nor had my hair stood on end since the day I awoke to this half-life, but I felt it now. There was a certain unmistakable power that buzzed in the air; the sort of thing that one might experience just prior to being struck by lightning. It was undeniable that I was in the presence of the supernatural, a divine servant of the Creator. I couldn't help but wonder if this was what Moses had experienced when he beheld the power and presence of God in the burning bush on Mt. Horeb.

I was dumbstruck. When I turned to flee, I found my feet firmly rooted to the ground where I stood. I felt an unnatural compulsion wash through me as my golden eyes locked with the glowing crimson orbs of White Stag. Instantly my world became disoriented; past, present, and future swirled together in a dizzying kaleidoscope of color and sound. Familiar images from my past, both human and vampire, mingled with visions of people I had yet to meet and places that I had yet to go. When the swirling disjointed torrent of images ended, White Stag tossed his head back and filled the cold night air with an ear splitting trumpet. The sound was so loud that I found it physically painful. I covered my sensitive ears with my hands to block out some of the noise even as I dropped to my knees in agony.

When my ears stopped ringing, I looked up to find the apparition gone; Cloud and I were alone once more. Still a bit dazed from my encounter, I stood slowly to my feet. A part of me wanted to ride for home as fast as Cloud could carry me. This was an inexplicably strong desire that I couldn't understand and I nearly surrendered to it. However, as I settled once more into the saddle, I turned Cloud's nose towards St John's Crossing and my waiting duties at the hospital.

**0o0**

I left the small army hospital in the grey hours before dawn; snow crunched under Cloud's hooves as he plodded along the narrow road leading out of town. All night, as I went about my duties, my mind drifted to my encounter with the mysterious and powerful spirit being. Why had he chosen to visit me, was a question I could not fathom. Although I respected Ayala's beliefs, I certainly didn't subscribe to them.

The things I saw in the vision were quite vivid and yet, as the night progressed, the clarity of them slowly faded leaving me with only vague impressions. This phenomenon troubled me greatly because, as a vampire, I had absolute perfect recall of every moment of my life to date; my memory was never ambiguous or cloudy. Right after the encounter, a number of faces from what I could only guess was my future stood out in my mind like beacons, but now, like everything else White Stag showed me, they too were hazy.

I spurred Cloud into a faster gate as we enter the lonely woods near our home; the same woods where I encountered the spirit the night before. Like an old churchyard or someplace haunted by an ancient curse, an eerie sort of energy still clung to the quiet stretch of forest. I felt the need to be clear of the area as soon as possible as I was in no particular hurry to encounter White Stag again. No, I mused as I nudged Cloud along, I could never tolerate being a prophet like Ezekiel or Jeremiah; I simply didn't have the fortitude to tolerate encounters with the awesome majesty of the Heavenly Host.

I was just over a half mile from home and the snow was deeper out here, a heavier band of clouds must have passed this way. I peered through the thicket of trees to my right and easily made out the secluded farmhouse in the near distance. I was nearly home and that fact made me smile . . . but then the scent hit me. It was faint and several hours old, but distinct none the less. Men and horses, a number of them, had come through here in the night. My throat grew tight with fear as I urged Cloud into a full gallop.

We raced into the yard and I leapt from Clouds back even before he skidded to a halt. Three quick strides had me across the yard and on the front porch; my long dead heart sank to my boots when I found the front door ajar. With a mixture of trepidation and haste, I pushed the door open and stepped into the foyer.

"Ayala," I called frantically. My sister's scent was still very strong in the house, not so the scent of the men. They were long gone, but if my senses were to be believed my sister was still here . . . somewhere.

I called to her several more times as I made the tour of the first floor. The house had been ransacked; the men were obviously looking for something. At the bottom of the stairs I paused to listen, focusing my predatory hearing to find any sign of my sister's presence. I was relieved when I detected a faint muffled heartbeat and a soft moan. I literally flew up the stairs, but to my dismay, Ayala was nowhere on the second floor either.

Frustrated and more than a little scared, I paused to listen again. I closed my eyes in order to concentrate better as I orientated myself to the direction of the heartbeat; just as I would if I were hunting. When I opened my eyes again I found myself looking at the ceiling.

"The attic," I murmured, "but why?"

I marched with purpose back towards the end of the hall near the head of the stairs. My hand fumbled along the underside of the windowsill as I sought the hidden switch. Not more than two weeks ago, quite by accident, my sister stumbled across the recessed switch. It opened the secret door and revealed the narrow stairwell that gave access to the attic. The existence of the door and mechanism would not be immediately obvious to the casual observer; I hadn't noted it myself and my perception was considerably more acute than that of any human.

I pressed the switch and waited for the hidden door to spring open. Cold musty air rushed down to meet me from the narrow inclined passage. I bounded up the stairs and into the dusty darkness beyond them.

"Ayala" I called out as I peered between and around the forest of beams and trusses that held up the roof. My sister's scent was stronger up here and I could clearly hear her heart. "Please answer me child."

There was another soft whimper then, which came from the far end of the expansive loft space. I made my way with haste towards the sound, finding my sister lying on the bare wooden floor near the attic's ventilation transom. She was curled in a tight ball and trembling from the combined effects of fear and the cold, otherwise, she was unmoving.

I whispered her name again as I knelt beside her. Her scent reviled on obvious injury . . . no open wounds or sources of blood loss. To be absolutely sure she was well, I needed to examine her more closely. When I touched her shoulder in an attempt to look at her, however, she flinched and whimpered like a beaten animal. I was mortified, never had Ayala reacted this way to my touch.

"Easy child, fear not," I soothed as I made a second attempt to asses her condition. "It's me Little Deer, open your eyes and look at me." I held my breath as I waited to gaze into her emerald eyes and I smiled with relief when she finally looked at me. "Do you not recognize your own brother?"

"_Panther Eyes,"_ she mouthed silently before closing her eyes again.

Her heartbeat was sluggish, she was frigid to the touch, and her hands and feet were pale bluish in cast. I hurriedly scooped her into my arms, I needed to get her downstairs and warm her up.

"Have you been up here all night, child," I asked as we descended the narrow attic stairs. She nodded her affirmation weakly against my chest.

All night in a cold dark attic attired in naught but her dressing gown; she might as well have spent the night sleeping under a tree in the woods. I whisked her down to the kitchen and settled her in a chair near the large open cooking hearth. I didn't feel inclined to rush back up to her bedroom and fetch a quilt, so I shucked off my thick woolen greatcoat and wrapped it around her trembling shoulders. My only regret was that my body hadn't imparted any warmth to the garment.

It didn't take me long to poke up the colas in the hearth thus providing a nice cheery fire for my sister. When the blaze was well established, I hung a kettle of water from the swing arm and set it to heat over the flames. A hot mug of stout tea would warm both her hands as well as her insides, and a tub of steamy water laced with peppermint and lavender oils would warm her feet and ward off the chills. I would be very lucky indeed if she didn't come down with pneumonia.

I knelt beside her as I waited for the kettle. My hand, as if having a mind of its own, reached to tuck a strand of her silky hair back behind her ear. "Are you hurt?" I inquired softly.

She wouldn't look at me as she shook her head. Gently I tipped her chin so our eyes meet and I continued my careful questioning, "What happened here, child?"

She stared at me but wouldn't answer, so I tried again, "Please tell me what happened and why you spent a freezing night hiding in the attic?"

"_Men came,"_ she replied. I was already aware of that fact, but at least this was a start.

"How many men, my child," by the scent that still clung to the house I could tell there had been multiple intruders. Because the invasion was hours old, however, I could no longer distinguish an exact number because their individual scents had mingled together too much.

"_I do not know, I did not see them,"_ she was becoming panicked and I quickly moved to calm her.

When she was relaxed again, I pressed her once more, "Can you guess at their number . . . even if you are wrong, your impression would be very helpful."

"_As many as my father would send in a raiding party,"_ she finally answered. _"No fewer than four but no more than eight."_

Four to eight men, I pondered as I went to the hearth to check on the kettle. That was a sufficiently sized group to be a gang of outlaws. Perhaps they stumbled across the house and decided to search it for valuables. In spite of the state of the house, I couldn't detect anything missing and the floor safe where I kept the household petty cash was undisturbed. On top of that, I could still clearly hear Willow and Flint's heartbeats out in the barn. If nothing else, a band of outlaws would have stolen the horses.

"_He was with them,"_ my sister's trembling whisper and mysterious comment drew my attention.

"Who was with the child?" I asked in response as I prepared her tea.

It was a moment before she answered, but what she said made my breath catch. _"Henry,"_ the word rolled from her lips like the name of the foulest demons from hell's inner most pit.

"God in Heaven," I gasped. "Are you certain, child?"

"_My brother doubts the truth of his sister's word?"_ I could see the hurt in her eyes as she replied.

"Of course I believe you," I insisted as I brought her a hearty mug full of stout tea. "I didn't mean to insinuate that I thought you were lying to me. It's just that, well, are you sure that it was Henry?"

"_I would not forget the voice of the man who held me down and mocked me while my tongue was cut from my mouth."_

Suddenly it all made sense; Little Deer's odd behavior as I was leaving the previous evening, my encounter with White Stag, and the intents desire I had felt after that encounter to ride hard for home.

"_Then the eyes of the blind shall be opened, and the ears of__the deaf shall be unstopped. Then shall the lame man leap as a heart and the tongue of the dumb sing."_ The words of the prophet Isaiah rattled through my head with renewed meaning. I had been given multiple sings that doom was eminent and yet I chose to ignore them. I had eyes with which to see them, but I may as well have been as blind as the beggar, Bartimaeus. Principalities and Powers beyond the scope of my comprehension were at work in mine and my sister's lives. To what purpose divinity's hand now strummed the harp strings of our present and future I could not say, but never again, I swore to myself, never again would I ignore my sister's intuition or White Stag's intervention.


	27. Chapter 27

**Note: I do not own or have rights to Twilight or its characters!**

**Chapter 27**

**No Greater Love**

"Wake up Ayala," I prodded my sister gently, "It's time to get Cloud and Willow ready for the ride home."

I watched her rise groggily and sit on the edge of her cot. Since the morning I found her huddling in the frosty attic half frozen, terrified, and hiding from her nemesis, Henry Savoy, she insisted on being a constant fixture at my side. Three weeks had passed since that morning and her resolve to follow me had not diminished in the least.

To that end, she accompanied me every evening to my shift at the hospital. Dr. McKenzie, our Chief of Medicine, ordered a cot set up for her in my tiny office and had breakfast brought every morning before we departed; he even went so far as to make a formal report concerning the invasion of our home to the Commander of the local garrison.

In truth, I wasn't at all put off by her desire to shadow me. After warming her back up, feeding her breakfast, and packing her off to bed on that dreadful morning; I spent the rest of the day cleaning up the mess Henry left behind. As I worked I contemplated all the calamities that could have occurred. I first considered what might have happened if Henry had found her; I could imagine all too well what atrocities he would have committed against her before brutally ending her life. Then my mind turned to other scenarios and I realized just how fortunate Ayala and I were. Given the fact that she chose to hide in the attic, had Henry set the house afire after finding it empty . . . there would have been no escape for her from the burning structure.

"Hurry and wash your face," I insisted as I pointed towards the plain white porcelain wash basin and pitcher. "Breakfast will be here shortly."

She nodded and did as I instructed. No sooner had she finished than a knock came at my office door. The smell of beans, bacon, biscuits, and strong coffee curled under the door to fill the room. Accompanying the aroma of the morning meal was the personal scent of Dr. McKenzie himself. His visit was more than a little unusual and concern gripped me as I opened the door.

"Good morning, Cullen," The doctor greeted me soberly and then in a more cheerful tone he greeted my sister, "And a good morning to you as well, Ayala, my dear."

"Good morning, sir," I replied respectfully as I watched him set our breakfast down on my desk. "To what do we owe the pleasure of this early morning visit?" Ordinarily, Dr. McKenzie was either on rounds or in a staff meeting at this hour.

"I'm afraid it isn't pleasant," he continued in his somber tone, "The dawn patrol took a detour by your home this morning and it would appear that those outlaws decided to take another poke around your property. The front door was kicked in and the house left in a shambles." He placed his hand on my shoulder reassuringly, "I sorry to be the bearer of bad news so early in the morning, but I thought you ought to know."

"Yes, of course . . . thank you." I managed to stammer. Seldom was I shocked by the sheer depravity of human behavior, but Henry's second invasion on our home left me reeling.

"Would you like a detachment of men to escort you and your sister home," the doctor inquired as his eyes shifted from me to Ayala and back again, "or perhaps you'll finally see reason and consider taking me up on the offer of lodging at the fort."

"No thank you sir," I replied, declining his generous offer with as much respect as I could.

While I might have liked to accept, the reality was that I needed to hunt as I hadn't done so since the night I encountered White Stag. I was at the limit of my endurance now, if I didn't meet my needs very soon, I wouldn't be trustworthy around my patients. I couldn't relieve myself very effectively while cooped up at Fort St. John's nor could I manage it with a detachment of armed men following us around.

"I understand your pride, Cullen . . . a man who can't defend what's his isn't much of a man, now is he?" Then Dr. McKenzie held something out in his outstretched hand, something that he wished me to take. When I realized what the object was, I was shocked. "At least take this," he insisted. "I noticed that you don't carry a weapon on your person. That's a very peculiar habit in these parts Dr. Cullen, but at least until this situation passes, I think a sidearm is very much in order."

The pistol felt strangely heavy as I accepted it from my employer. "Thank you sir," I muttered.

Before dismissing himself to attend to rounds, he informed me that the pistol was already loaded and he supplied me with extra shot and powder. I detested firearms as I had seen all too often in my profession the damage they could do to human flesh. I only keep the long rifle that once belonged to Clouds former owner for Ayala's use. I sighed as I lay the gun down on my desk; reality was settling in on me . . . it was quite clear to me now that before very long I would likely be forced to kill Henry Savoy. Up until now I prided myself on the fact that I hadn't stooped to murder, but the brut was forcing my hand with his continued pursuit. If forced to choose between preserving my sister's life and maintaining my moral high ground I would chose the former, hands down.

"Eat your breakfast child," I instructed absently, "and then go ready the horses."

**0,o,0,o,0**

The crunch of the horses hove's in the fresh snow created a mesmerizing rhythm that filled the cold morning air. We were nearly home now; the woods that marked the boundary of our property loomed before us. As we turned off the wide rutted main trail and onto the narrow one that wound towards our home I considered how best to handle my dire need to hunt. Little Deer understood this need; I made no secret of my predatory practices, though I didn't elaborate on them in any detail.

Once deep in the secluded shelter of the woods, I turned our course towards the clearing where I usually left Cloud while I hunted. When we arrived I stopped and dismounted; my sister followed my lead. She seemed puzzled as I pressed Cloud's reins into her hand.

"I need to hunt, Ayala," I told her quietly, and the deep questioning furrow in her brow instantly relaxed.

She nodded her understand as she whispered, _"Your eyes are like the feathers of Brother Raven's wings, if they grow any blacker they will swallow the night sky and all the stars that glisten in Moon Woman's hair."_

The poetic way that Little Deer described the world around her moved me. I hated to push the delightfully distracting imagery that now danced within my mind aside, but I had to. There were things I had to impress upon my sister and this would require all my concentration.

"I'm not entirely comfortable having you so close while I'm actively hunting," I sighed, "but I fear there is little choice . . . I doubt seriously you would allow me to take you to the ruined house and leave you there until I return."

I wasn't at all surprised when she shook her head fervently at the later suggestion.

"Just as I thought," I muttered before I continued in a clearer tone. "This is where I leave Cloud when I hunt, I'm accustomed to his scent in this general vicinity and I avoid the area. It is absolutely imperative for your safety that you remain here with the horses; I cannot impress the fact upon you strongly enough.

"A Sky Being is unpredictable and dangerous while hunting . . . we give ourselves over to the inner beast. If you were to accidently get in my way . . ." I paused as ghastly pictures of her mangled and bleeding corps filled my mind. "If you were to get in my way, I might not recognize you and I could end up mistaking you for pray.

"Do you understand, will you swear to stay put until I return for you?"

"_I will stay, Panther Eyes,"_ she assured me. _"But please promises me you will not be gone long."_

I understood her fear at being left alone in the woods so soon after our house was invaded for a second time. Knowing that Henry was still out there somewhere searching for her only intensified her fear. I pulled her into my arms for a brief reassuring embrace.

"I will be as quick as I possibly can," I insisted as I released her, then I drew the pistol from my belt and placed it in her hands. "Do not hesitate to use it," I instructed firmly. "Aim for the head or chest, this ensures an instant kill."

She accepted the pistol with trembling hands. On our long journey across the wilds I had given her several shooting lessons and while she was proficient, she seemed to dislike firearms as much as I did. With one last pat on the shoulder and my best reassuring smile, I left her alone and proceed to hunt.

**0,o,0,o,0**

The crimson haze of my bloodlust was starting to fade as my awareness of the world around me slowly seeped back into focus. First I noticed the warm metallic and slightly earthy taste of the deer's blood lingering in my mouth. This was followed by a sudden awareness of the animal's limp body in my arms; the young buck had only struggled briefly before I snapped his neck.

I stood slowly to my feet, allowing the carcass to drop to the earth beside me. I wasn't completely stated; after three weeks without hunting I could have easily consumed the essence of another buck and a doe as well, but Ayala was waiting for me. My eyes quickly found a suitable place to bury the buck's body and my inhumanly fast hands soon had a hole excavated.

I was just finishing arraigning some bramble over the burial site when the sharp report of a pistol's discharge filled my sensitive ears. This was followed in rapid secession by the angry shouts of men, the frantic screams of panicked horses, and fierce crack of a bullwhip. Then I heard the sound that made my dead heart turn over in my chest . . . Ayala's chilling wail. I bolted from the spot, dashing through the thick forest as fast as my immortal legs would carry me. Second later I stood concealed in the shadows watching the events unfolding in the clearing before me.

My sister was on her knees in the center of the clearing, ringed by five men; among them were Henry Savoy and the Keelboat man, Sirius McGee. Henry loomed over Ayala, with the bullwhip in his right hand, he looked entirely too pleased with himself.

"Where's your _brother_, the good Dr. Squaw-man?" Sirius asked angrily.

When Ayala remained silent, Henry cracked the whip striking the ground near my sister's leg. "Answer the man, you mangy camp dog; where is this doctor who claims to be your brother? Speak up, or the next time my whip snaps, I'll let it take a bit of your worthless flesh."

My anger was white hot; I barely had control of the crimson fury the burned within me. A constant low growl rumbled from deep in my throat. While the sound was well below the threshold of human hearing, Cloud and Willow heard it quite distinctly and they began to prance nervously. Their sudden odd behavior menaced the men and set Henry and Sirius on edge.

"He's here," Sirius, muttered nervously to Henry. "The Squaw man's come to rescue his sister. Don't listen to a word he says; he has a devil's tongue that can . . ."

"Shut your hole, McGee," Henry snapped angrily as he drew his pistol with his free hand. "He's just a man; he'll bleed and die as easily as any . . . silver tongue or not." Then he turned his attention to the trees the surrounded him. "Come out and show yourself, Cullen."

I remained hidden, watching the men. The longer I stayed put, the more unnerved the men would become . . . it was a little trick that Aro taught me. To further agitate the environment, I increased the volume and pitch of my growl ever so slightly. Birds startled into flight from the trees all around us and the horses became even more panicked. I listened to the thrum of the human hearts in the clearing, each showed signs of increasing distress as they subconsciously realized the danger that lurked in the green shadows.

Henry cracked his whip again, coming within a hair's breadth of Little Deer's knee. "Come out Cullen, or the next time . . . I'll let my whip give this filthy squaw a kiss on the cheek." He found his own remark amusing and began to chuckle to himself; I was defiantly not amused as my anger boiled even hotter.

I steeped from the shelter of the trees and into view of the men, carrying myself with all the presence and power afforded to a fully mature vampire. I was the very personification of death and I made no attempt to cover that fact; I wanted these men to see what manor of danger they so carelessly courted . . . I wanted them to be afraid.

"You called me out, Henry Savoy," I insisted in a low breathy growl, "Well, here I am," I spread my arms wide, exposing my body to any attack. "What do you want, vermin?"

My eyes darted quickly around the circle of men as I considered my rapidly dwindling options. Of the five, only Henry and Sirius seemed unaffected by my theatrical display. The other three looked ready to bolt for the trees if I so much as glared hard at them, but then again they likely feared Henry's wrath more than mine. For Little Deer's sake, I was hoping to end this without having five bodies to dispose of, but that was looking less likely by the second. Needless to say, I wasn't thrilled by the prospect of killing five men . . . but I would gladly kill one; Henry Savoy.

"You've cost me a lot of time and trouble, Cullen," Henry grumped. "I've spent the past year looking for my wayward property only to find that you have it. I might have even given up searching for her if McGee here hadn't recognized Little Deer and pointed me in the right direction." He wiped his chin with the back of his hand before continuing. "Now the way I figure things, you owe me for my time and trouble as well as all the fringe benefits you've enjoyed over the past year by having Littler Deer to warm your bed at night."

Another fierce growl ripped from my throat. It was a ferial sound that bespoke immediate danger. The raw power that resonated through it was enough to frighten Cloud and Willow into a blind panic and they broke free of their tethers and raced from the clearing. A chilling smile curled my lips as I returned my focus to Henry.

"Riches profit not in the day of wrath: but righteousness delivereth from death." The fourth verse of the eleventh chapter of Proverbs fell coldly from my lips, to be followed quickly by the fifth, "The righteousness of the perfect shall direct his way: but the wicked shall fall by his own wickedness."

"Well what'd ya know; Dr. Squaw-man is a preacher too," Sirius sneered. "Did you manage to save her heathen soul Squaw-man?"

My teeth gowned together with my effort to maintain my control. When I could form coherent words again I replied, "I am inclined to be a compassionate, peace loving man, Mr. Savoy . . . to that end, I'm going to give you and your associates to the count of five to get out of my sight," I grumbled. "And if I ever catch wind of you or your pack of mangy wolves anywhere near my sister or my property again, I will not hesitate to kill you."

"Those are mighty brave words, Dr. Cullen," Henry retorted calmly. "Especially considering that you're one unarmed man standing against five men with guns. Maybe you're the one who ought to start running at the count of five."

The sound of pistols and muskets being primed for firing echoed off the trees in the cramped clearing. It was now obvious that this situation was not going to end peaceably and so I began to consider, with earnest, in what order I would fall upon my victims. The only troublesome part was that Little Deer would be trapped in the middle of the ensuing bedlam and protecting her while eliminating our enemies would be a difficult charge.

"One," Henry began to count as three muskets and a pistol were leveled in my direction. "Two . . ."

"You have no idea what manor of creature you're trifling with," I whispered, "you have brought destruction upon your own heads; may God grant you mercy . . . because I will not."

As 'three' began to spill from Henry's mouth, I fell upon the nearest man to my left. I was a blur of motion to the human eye; impossible to follow and seeming to be first in one place, disappear, and then reappear in another. I broke the first man's neck before he even realized I was touching him, and then I moved to take out his cohort standing next to him. Both men lay dead before the word 'Three' stopped ringing among the trees.

The report of a pistol's discharge cut through the crisp morning air and my inhuman hearing followed the lead ball as it whizzed past my ear; burring itself in a tree trunk behind me. The third of Henry's nameless minions had fired the shot. I flashed the man a chilling grin before dashing at vampire speed across the expanse between us. Two heartbeats later he was lying in a lifeless heap amid the soft white snow.

My wrath now focused on Henry and Sirius, both men were obviously shaken by the turn of events. Sirius recovered a measure of his senses and he aimed his musket at me in preparation to fire . . . instantly I was beside him. Taking the muzzle of his weapon in my immortally strong hand, I effortlessly bent the metal barrel until it doubled back to aim at its owner. The man's human mind was to slow to process what had taken place and without fully realizing that the musket was damaged, he pulled the trigger anyway. The force of the contained explosion caused the breach of the gun to explode in Sirius' face, killing him.

I stood there, examining my terrible handy work for a split second too long than I should have; there was the sound of a second pistol being fired, the scurrying of small familiar feet, and then the chilling wail of my sister's pain filled cry. I turned in time to catch Little Deer's falling body and ease her to the ground. The vastness of my superior intellect easily pieced together the morbid course of events; Little Deer had put her own frail human body between Henry's pistol ball and me. It was an ultimate act of selfless love; _Greater Love hath no man than this; that a man lay down his life for his friend._

Pain danced in waves across her innocent face, but Little Deer was still alive. Secure in this knowledge I let loose the full force of my furry on Henry Savoy.

"You and your cursed brother tortured my sister in mind and body every day for a solid year," I sneered as I strode slowly towards Henry. "When she couldn't learn English fast enough to suit your liking, you cut out her tongue. And when blessed providence saw fit to release her from her hellish torment by ending Jack's pathetic existence, you proceed to hunt her like an animal." I was in his face now, my golden eyes firmly fixing his mahogany ones. "The wages of sin is death and today, Henry Savoy, you shall collect that which is due you."

In a single swift movement, I broke Henry's neck and then watched his limp body flutter to the ground. It was over; I felt my burning wrath drain from me like water pouring from a leaky water skin. All that remained now was the crushing guilt that gnawed at my still and stony heart for having taken five lives. I'd spent almost two hundred years perfecting my control, not once had I taken a human life; today I killed five men in a fit of perfect rage and I was utterly ashamed.

'_You did what was necessary to save your sister,'_ my inner voice corrected, but before it could encourage me further, a soft cry tore at my tattered soul.

"_Panther Eyes,"_ Ayala's moan drew me from my self-loathing.

I returned to where she lay. A bright bloom of crimson stained the front of her green cotton dress and I nearly weep unsheadable tears as I knelt beside her. "Be still child," I whispered to her as I hastily examined her wound. The pistol ball struck her in the abdomen and I could tell by the scent that it left a trail of destruction through her vital organs. I ripped the sleeves from my shirt and used them to pack and bind her wound.

"Why child," I asked with more than a little quiver in my voice.

"_Henry was going to shoot you,"_ she answered weakly. _"I would protect my brother."_

"I am your protector Little Deer, not the other way around," I corrected bitterly. "You should have let him shoot me; I would have come to no harm. But you . . . look at what damage has been wrought."

As gently as I could manage, I scooped her into my arms and raced off through the forest towards our home.

"_You are a great healer, my brother_," she murmured into the folds of my shirt. _"You will make me well again."_

Her complete trust in my feeble skills was as humbling as it was heart wrenching. I knew, even as I gently nestled her in her bed, that Little Deer's life was near its end. All I could do for her now was to make the last hours of her life as comfortable as possible. Once again, I had failed her . . . in every way imaginable.

"_I told you that this association would not end well,"_ my father's crass voice filled my head like thunder. _"You should have listened. Now you must suffer the consequences of your foolishness as you watch your folly come to its tragic close."_

"_It hurts Panther Eyes,"_ she groaned as I cut away her dress and proceeded to apply a formal pressure dressing to slow her blood lose.

"I know, my precious," I whispered; the words practically took my breath away. "Give me a moment more to finish this and then we'll have something for the pain."

When the Laudanum kicked in and she was resting comfortably, I took a seat beside her narrow bed. The memories of an entire year, the most glorious year of my unnatural life, filtered one by one through my mind. I would not exchange one minuet, of one hour, of one day, from the past twelve months for all the riches in the world. For a brief span of time, for the blinking of eternity's eye, I had known the completion of a family and found in it true happiness.

Time passed slowly as I watched her sleep and my haunted mind continued to grieve. When she would wake, I offered her water, medicine, and the comfort of my presence. Just after twilight, I went to the kitchen to prepare some tea for her when a light knock came at the front door. I knew instantly who was there, his presence here in the middle of nowhere was as shocking as it was unmistakable.

"Will you open the door for me, friend Carlisle," Aro's voice chimed from the other side of the door. "Or do you intend to make your guest stand in cold all night?"

As if it weren't difficult enough dealing with my sister's coming demise, I now had the leader of the Volturi to contend with. I sighed deeply as I opened the door and watched Aro float on silent feet into my home.

**0o0o0o**

**AN:** _I_ _hope you guys didn't find Carlisle's violent streak too upsetting; I just couldn't imagine a peaceful settlement to the problem of Henry. Amputation is a grave yet valid course of treatment not to be taken lightly, but sometimes necessary for the life of the patient. Henry needed to be amputated! _

_Yes, there's more to the story . . . a few more chapters that is. No, I won't tell you what happens yet. I will say this; the ending I originally envisioned for this story when I started it, is not the one I'm using. It evolved during the writing process and for that you have Carlisle and Little Deer to thank. _


	28. Chapter 28

Note: I do not own or have rights to Twilight or it's characters!

Chapter 28

**Thunder Man**

"This is a far cry from your apartments at the palace," Aro sighed as he appraised my parlor. "You could do so much better, my friend."

I dismissed his opinion with a shrug and went back to preparing my sister's tea. "I am a simple man with simple tastes Aro; this place suites me just fine."

The knot of dread that had been working in my stomach all day doubled in size with Aro's arrival. While we were old friends, it wasn't like him to leave Volterra . . . for any reason. This was no casual social call; Aro was here representing the full power and majesty of the Volturi and he likely wasn't alone. Though they were out of the range of my detection, I suspected several members of the Guard were close by; including his prize pupil, Jane.

"Why are you here Aro?" I asked as I stirred honey into Little Deer's tea. My focus was evenly split between watching my friend and monitoring my sister's heart beat, by the change in its rhythm I could tell she would wake soon.

"That's no way to talk to a friend whom you haven't seen in decades," he put on a pouting expression. "Especially considering the fact that the Guard and I just cleaned up the mess you made in the woods." He shook his head; his pout replaced with wonder and amusement, "Five bodies," he muttered, "I honestly didn't think you had it in you, Carlisle. Please tell me, as I am most curious to know, what force could incapacitated your unsurpassed control and send you on a murderous rampage."

"My control was intact; I planed and exsiccated every move with extreme deliberateness." I corrected him sharply even as guilt over the incident lashed at the very center of my being. "I didn't touch a single drop of their blood."

"True," he chuckled. I suppose my discomfort was more apparent that I would have liked. "Murder and waste; that is a double shame. However, I beg to differ on the exactness of your planning; you made one major miscalculation, didn't you?"

As if on cue, I heard Little Deer's soft moan filter down from the second story. I did miscalculate, and now my beloved sister lay dying because of my oversight. Throughout the long lonely hours as I keep vigil over her, my mind returned to that fact. Yet how could I have known that she would foolishly throw her life away in a valiant, but unnecessary attempt to save mine.

Aro took a deep exaggerated breath and then shook his head, "Rumors have been finding their way to the palace for months now . . . shocking rumors that I found impossible to believe." He fixed me with his sad crimson eyes, disappointment danced in their depths. "My good friend, Carlisle Cullen . . . a man whom I would have welcomed into the ranks of the Volturi with much rejoicing, is cohabitating openly with a human companion."

He took another deep breath and continued, "And now I find that unsavory rumor to be true. Why Carlisle, why did you do this foolish thing which now forces me to raise my hand against you?"

"You wouldn't understand," I muttered.

"Try me," he insisted. "You might be surprised by what my vast life experience predisposes me to understand."

"Would my explanation make a difference in the administration of Volturi Justice?" I sighed as the realization of my fate set in, "Is it somehow possible for me to mitigate the inevitable by the sheer force of compelling oration . . . I think not."

Aro took a seat by the hearth and for the span of several second he simply stared into the glowing embers. I had seen him lost in thought before; by his expression I could tell that this whole affair had him very upset.

"I am a lonely man, Carlisle," he finally sighed. "Did you know that?"

Stunned by the sincerity of his confession, I simply shook my head.

"Yes, I have a beautiful mate and my brothers, Marcus and Caius, to share my eternity with, but I am lonely none the less," He indicated that I should take a seat next to him so I pulled up a chair and sat down. "My position as leader of the Volturi necessitates an austere social life; my impartiality cannot afford to be clouded by too many extraneous emotional connections . . . as a result, my circle of friends is terribly small.

"However, you are one of the select few I count in this elite circle. I saw in you, the first day we met, a kindred spirit. Perhaps it was your exacting sense of personal discipline, or your unquenchable thirst for knowledge, or maybe it was my own profound loneliness that I saw mirrored in your eyes; whatever the reason, on that day, I marked you in my mind as a friend."

"Thank you, Aro, I am honored," I replied.

"As well you should be," he insisted with a brief nod before launching back into his sermon. "It is precisely because I count you as a friend that I am here personally. Had these rumors come to my attention concerning anyone else, I would have simply dispatched the Guard and been done with the matter."

"I appreciate your personal attention, Aro, but to what good purpose is it?" My agitation was on the rise; if he was going to destroy me then so be it, but must he continue to toy with me. "I still do not see where an explanation, no matter how sincere, will alter the outcome of your visit."

"Your explanation may not change anything," he answered calmly, "However, don't you think you owe it to me; a friend who has traveled across an ocean and half a country to uncover the truth."

He had a point, I thought to myself as I considered where to begin my tale. How does one concisely sum up the events of the single most life altering encounter of one's existence. Once again the memories danced brightly through the vast corridors of my mind. Pain mixed with joy, agony and ecstasy swirled like powerful ocean currents within me. Finally I decided that words simply weren't adequate to express the power of Ayala's influence on my life or the deep well of love I felt for the frail human girl that was now dying up stairs. Although I usual avoided Aro's mind reading touch, this time I willingly sought it as I held my hand outstretched towards him.

"I would gladly trust your words my friend," he seemed startled by my intentions.

"There is more for you to know that can be expressed by the imperfect utterances of the tongue."

With an understanding nod, he reverently took my hand. I felt the sudden odd rush as Aro's mind locked with mine. It wasn't painful or uncomfortable as he filtered at will through my thoughts and memories; in fact I found a certain solace in it. While I might soon meet my ending, a part of me would live on in Aro, through my memories. Perhaps the ancient Egyptians were right to believe that immortality was not achieved in the body, but on the lips of men who spoke of you long after your own last breath was spent.

When he finally released my hand, sadness and regret lit his crimson eyes. "Amazing," he muttered in a breathy whisper; I wasn't sure what to make of his reaction. "I wish to meet this girl you call 'sister'."

"She's dying Aro!" fear gripped me anew. "For pity's sake do not hasten her end; let Almighty God have her in his own time." The thought of Aro killing Little Deer sent new waves of grief and pain cascading through me.

"I have no intention of harming the girl; I simply wish to meet her," he assured me quietly. "I stand in awe of the mutual affection that I have seen in your memories and I would like the opportunity to know this sister of yours."

I considered his request briefly before surrendering to it. "You will, of course, be mindful of her delicate condition. I must insist that you do not overtax her as she . . ."

"Enough, Carlisle," Aro cut me off gently. "I will remember that she is unwell and keep my visit both brief and cordial." Then he pointed towards the stairs. "Shall we proceed; and do not forget to bring the child her tea."

He followed me up the stairs and we paused outside of Little Deer's room. "There will be blood, I cannot stop the oozing." I informed Aro plainly.

"I am aware of this, I could smell it clearly from the parlor." He replied and then added, "I am well feed at the moment and in full control of myself; I assure you, I will not fall upon her like an unruly newborn."

"You will give me a moment to introduce you," I insisted as my hand brushed the door knob. "Your sudden presence might frighten her."

"Of course, whatever you think is best," he conceded.

I opened the door and entered her room. Little Deer lay quietly in her bed, her eyes closed. Slowly I crossed the room to her bedside, leaving Aro standing in the doorway. After setting the mug full of tea down on the bedside table I pulled up my usual chair and sat down.

"Little Deer," I called her name softly in Sioux. "Come now child, I have your tea."

She opened her eyes and an instant, all be it weak, smile spread across her lips at the sight of me. _"Panther Eyes,"_ she whispered. Though I had insisted over the past year that she try to use my English name as much as possible, more often than not she called me by the Sioux name she gave me.

I gently lifted her head and pressed the mug of warm liquid to her lips. She took several swallows before turning her face away. It was more than I expected her to do considering her current state. I put the cup aside and made a quick check of her bandages. Aro cleared his throat ever so softly to remind me to get on with this; it was a sound only I would hear.

"Child, there is someone here who wishes to meet you," I began gently. "He's a fellow Sky Being; you have nothing to fear from him." I turned and nodded ever so slightly, indicating that Aro should come forward. "Little Deer this is . . ."

"_Thunder Man."_ She breathed, cutting off my introduction as her eyes fell on Aro.

A warm broad smile ignited Aro's features, highlighting his pleasure. He was well aware of just who Thunder Man was from having perused my memories; the identity suited him. He approached my sister with an air of worshipful reverence and then slowly settled on the edge of the bed beside her.

"Greetings little one," he cooed warmly. "My, eh . . . _son_ has told me so very much about you. I am quite impressed."

"_You have come for me,"_ anxiety played across her face, _"To take me to the Sky World and my ancestors?"_

"No my precious, I have not come to collect you yet" he soothed in an uncharacteristically paternal tone. "There is yet time; I am here only because I wished to meet you."

"_Is Rain Woman here too?"_ she asked innocently.

"No," He answered with a soft chuckle. "Unfortunately my beautiful mate had some very pressing business to attend to. I alone have come, but I will tell her that you asked after her."

I watched as they continued to exchange pleasant conversation; the warm way in which Aro interacted with my sister was a side of him that I had never seen before. Then it occurred to me that, in his human life, Aro had been both a husband and a father. On a cold November evening in Volterra, he had shared those bitter sweet, but hazy memories with me as we sat by the fireplace in his study.

"Little Deer, I am aware that you are not well," he cooed softly. "Panther Eyes insists I should not tax you unduly, and he is right. Still I am enchanted by you and would I would like to know all I can about you." He paused, smiled warmly, and leaned in a bit closer, "Would you mind if I touched you? In doing so, I would instantly know all you thoughts and memories and I wouldn't have to exhaust you with my endless questions."

"_Will it hurt?"_ She inquired innocently, a hint of fear danced in her jade eyes.

"Absolutely not," Aro insisted. "If you don't believe me, ask Panther Eyes. He shared his thoughts with me before we came up to see you."

She glanced nervously at me, asking her unvoiced question with her wide eyes. "It doesn't hurt, my child." I assured her and gave an approving nod. When she turned her gaze back to Aro, she made a feeble attempt to offer him her hand.

"No, my pet . . . allow me." With the reverence usually reserved for a sacred relic, Aro took Little Deer's small pale hand between his. A slow smile spread across his face as he closed his eyes; Ayala's life story now danced within the mind of Thunder Man. A few moments later he was done. Just as gently and reverently as he took her hand, so he released it, placing it gently onto of her stomach. Then he did something that caught me totally by surprise; he bent forward and kissed Little Deer on the forehead.

"Rest now my pet," he whispered affectionately after tucking a stray strand of hair back behind her ear. "Your brother and I have much to discuss."

_**Yes, a cliffy . . . boo, hiss. I know, I know, but I realized that some of you were worred when Aro showed up. Now maybe you won't worry as much.**_


	29. Chapter 29

Note: I do not own or have rights to Twilight or its characters!

Chapter 29

**Amazing Grace**

We returned to the parlor, and for nearly half an hour, Aro stood braced against the fireplace mantle. He stared into the glowing embers as if some great mystery would be reviled to him in by the flickering flames. I had never seen him this absorbed before and I wasn't sure what to make of it.

"Adequate words escape me." He finally muttered, but he remained unmoving. I suddenly realized he was talking to himself. "In three thousand years, how many individuals have I touch, how many life stories have I absorbed . . . more than the stars in the night sky, more than the grains of sand at the bottom of the ocean?"

Then he turned his head away from the flames and looked at me; his gaze seemed to turn me inside out. "If I live to see time pass away and the earth reduced to smoldering rubble I do not think I would ever find a love as pure and enduring as that which exists between you and that child." He let go of the mantel and began to pace, "Not ever mates are bound so closely as you and Little Deer.

"You are her brother, her Keeper, her protector; she adores you with an intensity that burns hotter than the sun. And what is Little Deer to you, my friend . . . she is light in your darkness, the lifter of your head, and the refresher of your soul." His pacing increased in speed, "_Mio Dio!" _he hissed adamantly in Italian.

"Enough with the theatrics Aro," I growled. I was painfully aware of Little Deer's place in my heart. The looming prospect of losing her was agonizing enough without having it rubbed in my face. "I willingly submit myself to Volturi Justice, I have but one request, that you . . ."

"Yes, yes," he interrupted me; waving his hand in dismissal of my remarks. "I already know what you would ask of me, I read it in your mind earlier." He finally stopped his pacing and took root. Crossing his arms over his chest, he glared at me. "You want me to allow her life to come to a natural ending, you want me to grant you these remaining hours to be with her and time to attend to the respectful internment of her mortal body."

I nodded, "I am a man of honor and integrity," I insisted as I swallowed hard. "Return here five days hence and I will be waiting for you. I will submit myself to you, without resistance; you my do as you like with me then."

I watched as Aro began pacing again, he sighed as if thoroughly exhausted and shook his head in disgust. "What you are, Carlisle Cullen . . . is a fool."

"I beg your pardon!" My emotions were as tightly stretched as a violin string; Aro's cutting remark was the touch that made me break. I would fight him and kill him if I had to . . . even if it meant bringing the Guard down on me. I took three strides towards him in anger, but a raised hand from my old friend stopped me in my tracks.

"Quell the fires of you wrath, friend Carlisle, before you attempt something that we will both regret," he retorted calmly.

"It is one thing to come here to administer justice," I shot back, pain more than anger resonated in my voice. "Is it really necessary to insult me before you kill me?"

Aro shook his head; suddenly he looked every bit of his three thousand year age. He stopped pacing again and returned to his chair by the fire. After a few moments he pointed to the chair I had occupied earlier; a not so subtle indication that I should join him.

"It was not meant as an insult; I'm sorry you took it as such." He spoke softly. Again he became quiet, the internal war that raged within him was clearly written in his features. In spite of my current predicament, I found myself feeling sorry for Aro.

"Why?" the word tumbled softly from his lips.

"You've already seen my memories," I insisted. "You know why I took her in, she . . ."

I didn't get to finish before he began waving his hand and shushing me. "I did not mean _that_ why." He turned his head and fixed me with his gaze. "I meant . . . why do you sit here and passively allow this travesty to unfold. I don't understand you Carlisle; there is no denying your feelings for the girl . . . you love her with every fiber of your being. And in case you need to be reminded of it, she feels the same; her thought of you were so tender, so innocent and affectionate that they made me ach inside.

"So I ask you again . . . why? It is within your power to stop the progression of these tragic events, it is within your power to save her, Carlisle, and yet . . . you do nothing."

I didn't answer him right away. In truth, I _had _entertained the notion of what my friend was alluding to. As I sat there by her bedside watching wave after wave of pain dance across Little Deer's face, I had considered that very possibility. But every time I thought about changing her, about bestowing immortality on her, I balked. How could I rob this sweet trusting child of her humanity? And for what purpose . . . so that I didn't have to face the grief of her lose. If I truly loved her, I couldn't condemn her to the same fate I now endured.

"I can't Aro." I whispered as I fought back the rising tide of agony in my chest. "I will not steal her humanity; I cannot condemn her to this cursed half life simply because I wish it so. There are many things for which I will answer when I am called into accounting on Judgment Day, but soul stealing will not be one of them."

"Foolishness," he muttered, "foolishness and waste." A long pause followed, plunging the room into uneasy silence.

"On your knees, now!" he growled as he suddenly leapt from his chair, it sounded like a thunderclap in the still room. "If this existence is a curses as you say, if you find it so distasteful, then you won't mind surrendering it to me."

I was stunned, my body frozen in place rendering me unable to comply with his hasty command. Instead of dropping to my knees I kept my seat, my worried eyes instantly darting to the top of the stairs. If I died now who would care for her. "Little Deer," I whimpered.

Suddenly Aro was in my line of sight, his body blocking my view. His stony hand was a vice under my chin holding it firmly so that my eyes were forced to lock with his. "That's what I thought," his voice was stern and I suddenly felt like a small boy looking into the face of an angry father. "A life is only worth nothing, my friend, when there is nothing left to live for. You would gladly surrender your existence to me, but only after the girl passes. Which means you have found something worth living for, a purpose for your existence . . . yet you insist on letting it slip through your fingers?

"I have half a mind _not_ to return in five days . . . I should set a mark upon you, like God placed upon Cain, so that you live, unmolested, until doomsday with the pain of Little Deer's death weighing your sensitive conscience!"

I was utterly undone; confused, hurt, and drowning in the tempest tossed sea of my emotions. In truth, I didn't want to live; not in a world devoid of my sister's bright countenance to illuminate it. With Aro's arrival, I took comfort in the fact that my misery would end quickly, I wouldn't have to suffer for very long. Not since first awakening to this life, had I look with such fond expectations towards death.

"I can't," I began to sob, even though I was incapable of tears. "I can't . . . change her . . . and I can't . . . live without her."

Unsheadable tears stung my eyes as my body quaked with the force of my grief. Aro stood quietly beside me, his hand resting firmly on my shoulder as he offered his silent solidarity. Even now in this bleak hour, in spite of my transgressions, he was still my dear friend.

"I wish you strength and grace, Carlisle, that you may endure the difficult hours that are to come." Aro whispered when my sobbing began to subside. "You will never know just how much it hurts me to see you suffering so." The he gave my shoulder a firm reassuring squeeze before turning towards the door. He paused halfway there, as if he'd forgotten something, "Your eyes are as black as coals, you should hunt, _now_, while she still retains a measure of her strength. Later, when the end is near, you won't want to leave her."

I nodded absently, of course he was right. "I will try." That was all the assurance I could give him.

Satisfied with my answer, Aro ghosted out my front door and into the night.


	30. Chapter 30

**Note:** I do not own or have rights to Twilight or its characters!

_AN: Part of this chapter is in Aro's POV, I hope no one minds._

Chapter 30

**Transcendence**

Aro's POV

I stayed well back from the quaint little house, being sure to remain hidden in the trees and downwind of the structure. I watched with satisfaction as my old friend left via the front door. When I visited earlier the stress and helplessness he felt as his sister slowly slipped towards death had Carlisle overwrought. His eyes were as black as coals and I knew that he would need to hunt, sooner rather than later. Overtaxed emotions drove thirst to heightened extremes.

Now that he was gone, I had my opportunity. I promised him that I would not harm the girl, I promised that I would allow her death to come to her naturally, and I promised that I would give him these last few days with his beloved sister before I came back to administer Volturi justices. I was a man of my word . . . mostly.

Carlisle was an old and dear friend, one of only a handful of true friends I had in the world. Though our opinions differed on topics to numerous to count, not the least of which was the subject of our diet, we respected each other's rights . . . we agreed to disagree. This mutual respect notwithstanding, I couldn't stand idly by and watch the travesty that was unfolding in this remote corner of nowhere.

I ghosted up the front steps of the little cottage on eternally silent feet and pushed open the front door. As I entered the parlor, I pushed back the hood of my cloak. A smile curled my lips as pleasant memories swirled to the forefront of my mind. When Carlisle was my guest in Italy I had encouraged him to find a companion to ease his loneliness. _It is easier to live this life when you have someone to live it with,_ I told him often. How was I to know that he would find companionship with a human . . . though on second thought I shouldn't be surprised, he related to humans more easily than he did to his own kind.

I took a deep breath and focused my hearing as I climbed the narrow stairs to the second floor where the child lay in her sick bed. She was worse now than she had been when I visited her earlier. Carlisle estimated she had two or three days remaining, in my humble opinion he was being far too generous. I could only hope she had the strength required to endure the process should she accept my offer.

I entered the little room, a low fire burned in the hearth and a single lamp was lit by the bed. As I crossed the room, I removed my cloak and draped it on a chair before settling myself on the edge of the bed. I watched her sleeping for several moments, it would be easiest to simply impart my gift, but Carlisle had an aversion to 'soul stealing' as he called it and so I would have to offer rather than bestow.

What was it she liked to be called again I mused, oh yes . . . "Little Deer," I whispered softly. "Open your eyes young one." I added gently.

I watched as her eyes opened weakly and a faint smile of recognition spread across her face. It was still quite shocking how little fear she had of me; I had never encountered this in a human before. I rested one hand casually on her arm so that I could monitor her thoughts while we talked.

"_Thunder Man,"_ she whispered, the words not quite forming properly due to her missing tongue.

"Hello, my pet," I replied in the smooth soothing tone that I found appealed most to humans.

"_You have come for me now,"_ her heart rate picked up as panic washed over her face. "_Please, Panther Eyes is not here . . . he said he would be with me . . ."_

The torrent of her troubled thoughts washed through me in a sudden powerful jolt. She thought I had come to collect her soul and take her to the Sky World to be with her ancestors. She was panicking because she wanted Carlisle present to hold her hand during her passing over. Her thoughts were so touching and tender that they actually hurt; I nearly released her arm to rid myself of the searing ach.

"No, my pet," I whispered as I lovingly stroked her fevered brow. "It is not time yet, calm yourself."

With a few deep breaths, she settled down. When I visited her earlier I had watched Carlisle offer her tea. There was a glass of water on the bedside table so I did the same; holding her head up and gently pressing the glass to her lips. After allowing her to take a few sips I rested her head back on the pillow and smiled at her.

"Feeling better?" I inquired, and she nodded in response.

"_If you did not come to escort me across the Sky Bridge . . ."_

"Then why am I here," I interrupted gently. Again she nodded. "That is a very good question, Little Deer, and I hope that I can answer it to your satisfaction." I took a deep breath, this was a most unusual and uncomfortable predicament for me. I was rarely, if ever, forced to explain my action . . . before hand or otherwise . . . and never to a human.

"Car . . . I mean Panther Eyes, loves you very, very much and the knowledge that he is about to lose you has his heart at the bursting point. The pain of his grief is more than I, as a father, can bear." I paused to gauge her reaction thus far.

"_I love him to, Thunder Man, he is the very best brother . . . he is so patient, always kind, and even when he is angry with me his words are tender."_ She fixed me than with her pride filled green eyes and extolled, _"Did you know he taught me to read?"_

I found myself chuckling at her exuberant accolades. Deeper down, however, I was immensely touched by her genuine and innocent affection. Never, in all my three thousand years, had a human affected me so. I was aware of Carlisle's suspicions that Little Deer possessed a gift and given my current reaction, I had to agree. It would be interesting to see how it manifested itself after her transformation. Provided of course, she accepts my proposal.

"I know that already, Little Deer, remember I read your memories earlier when I held your hand." She nodded and I continued, "In fact, the mutual deep affection between you and my son is the reason I have come to visit you again. I see no good purpose in separating the two of you; it will only cause excess and unnecessary pain. To that end I would like to give you a very special gift." I paused briefly to observe her; in spite of her weakened state, curiosity played across her features. I took a deep breath, muttered a silent prayer to whatever god might be listening, and plunged into my proposal. "I would like to make you a Sky Being."

"_You can do that?"_ She asked as her eyes went wide with wonder.

"I can, but," I felt it was my duty to warn her about the difficulty. "It will not be easy. The process is very painful . . . in order to begin the change; I must bite you so that my ven . . . uhm . . . my celestial essence can mingle with your blood. After that you will feel as if a forest fire is raging inside your body burning you up from the inside."

"_Does the fire keep burning . . . always?" _

Her thoughts told me that she was interested, but that the notion of fire tormenting her body for all of time frightened her. If I had someone with whom to wager, I would have staked my whole fortune on her acceptance.

"The burning dies away after three or four days and when you awaken; you will be a Sky Being." I smiled at her as I thought of my venom coursing through her veins. "You will be a daughter of Thunder Man."

She was smiling and it was the most radiant sight my ancient eyes had ever seen, but then her smile became a frown and I thought my long dead heart would shatter like glass. Yes, Little Deer defiantly had a gift.

"What is it child?" I asked affectionately.

"_What do you think Panther Eyes will say?"_

"I think," I paused for reasons I couldn't explain and then took up again, but the sugar coated lie I wanted to tell was not what fell from my lips, "I think, once he gets over the shock, Panther Eyes will be very pleased." I had never spoken with such utter honesty to anyone . . . ever.

Little Deer had a very powerful gift, indeed, one that I would cherish having in the ranks of the Guard. But if anyone else in the vampire world was to have her, I could think of no one better suited to look after this young one than Carlisle.

"I need your answer now, my precious," I prodded gently. If transformation was to take place, I needed to begin soon . . . preferably before she got any weaker and defiantly before Carlisle returned.

She smiled at me weakly in response. In her eyes danced a pure light that I'd never seen before, love wafted off her in waves so strong they were palpable and in her thoughts . . . dear God, her thoughts, they were only of Carlisle, _Panther Eyes_ . . . her kind and loving brother. I had to remove my hand from her arm then, because the searing pain of her tender innocent tennor of her mind was more than my immortal body could stand.

"_I will accept your gift Thunder Man, and you will please tell Red Pony and Ground Squirrel that I am sorry I could not join them in the Sky World."_

"It would be my pleasure to convey your message, my dear one," I assured her. "Now we really must begin, before your mortal body is too weak to withstand the change."

0o0o0o0o0o

Carlisle's POV

My hunt took me longer than I intended it to. I could find no easy game near the house and so I had to travel a number of miles before I found a small heard of deer. As I began stalking them, I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. When I turned, I caught only a fleeting glance of something large and white disappearing into the bushes. For a moment I could have sworn that it was White Stag, but why would Ayala's guardian be visiting me.

"If you have come to take her," I muttered sadly, "Please do me the kindness of waiting until I've returned to her side." Then I turned and fell upon my pray with reckless abandon.

Now fully stated, I raced for home. I could see the house already through the brakes in the trees and the sight made a bitter sweet mixture of joy and sorrow fill my soul. Over these past year I'd come to know true happiness, coming home from my hospital duties each morning and finding the comforting presence of Little Deer waiting for me. Fond memories of happier times danced through the corridors of my mind, forcing a sad smile to my lips and an unquenchable ach to stab relentlessly at my long dead heart. At least I wouldn't have to endure the pain for too long; Aro would return in a five short days to end my misery.

I sighed as I drew nearer to the house, I told my old friend that Little Deer had a few days left, but it was a lie. If my sister lasted another twenty four hours I would count us both as blessed. This grim fact was the reason I had gorged myself during my hunt; I didn't want to leave her side again until God claimed her precious soul for His very own.

I was deep in thought, considering where I would lay her mortal body to rest, as I strode silently up the front steps . . . when my right foot stepped lightly onto the porch, his unmistakable scent hit me. I cursed under my breath as I bolted through the front door and bounded up the stairs. He promised to let a peaceful natural death come to her, he promised to give us these last few hours together, I couldn't believe the betrayal that was now evident to me.

"How could you!" I bellowed as I burst into Little Deer's room.

There was no one in the dark quiet room but my sister; she was lying as motionless as a corps in her bed. Aro's scent was thick in the room; I hadn't missed him by more than a few minutes. My predatory ears focused on my sister's breathing and heart beat, both were elevated and erratic. As I approached the bed, the reason for this became evident; the rapidly healing bite wound on her neck glared hauntingly back at me.

My dead heart sank to the floor as the reality of things set in. In my absence, Aro had returned to rob Ayala of her humanity, condemning her to this cursed half life. While I would have given anything and everything in heaven and on earth to save her life, gone to any length possible so as not to lose her to death's eternal embrace, turning her into a vampire was not an option I would seriously entertain. I did not want her to die, but neither did I want this; my poor innocent natured sister turned into a blood thirsty beast.

"If you are within earshot Aro, as God is my witness, I shall never forgive you for this." I growled through gritted teeth. I knew that he was somewhere close by, observing the aftermath of his heinous intervention, and that he could likely hear my remarks. "Do you understand me . . . I shall _never_ forgive you!"

"_Never_ is a very long time my friend, even for one of us." I heard his faint reply filtering like a summer breeze from somewhere in the distance. "You are not the sort who holds grudges for that long; your compassionate nature simply won't allow such a thing." I could clearly make out the ringing notes of satisfaction in his voice. "One day, very soon, you will thank me for this. She is exactly what you need, Carlisle, a companion, a sister . . . a dear one to ease your loneliness.

"Teach her well, old friend. Make sure she knows and understands the law . . . and see to it that she follows it. I would hate for something, _unpleasant_, to happen to her for want of a proper education."

Then I heard his footfalls crunching in the snow as he raced away, leaving me alone with mine and Ayala's fate. I settled on the edge of her bed and took her hand in mine; her body burned as if on fire. Soon enough, however, she would grow stone cold as the venom spread through every part of her and then, in the end, retreated towards her center to extinguish her beating heart. If it were possible for me to weep, I would have shed tears enough to drown the whole world in a flood of biblical proportions.

Time passed and night turned into day as I watched her. I listened to her piteous whimpers, pain filled moans, and her incoherent mutterings in Sioux. I tried to give her what comfort I could; I held her hand, I lovingly stroked her forehead and cheek, and sometimes, when she wailed in agony, I pulled her into my arms and rocked her like an infant. And always . . . always I whispered tender words of encouragement to her, telling her that I was with her, that all would be well, and that the agony would soon come to an end. I had no idea if she could hear me, or if she was even aware of my presence; still I persisted if for no other reason than doing so eased the painful burden that weighed on my own heart.

'_Will you not grant her God's mercy?'_ my father's angry voice snarled in my head on the dawning of the second hellish day of her transformation. It was the second time his wicked specter had visited me since the Little Deer had been shot. _'There is yet time. It would be a simple thing to do, demon. Snap her neck, or give her an overdose of the laudanum, if you haven't the stomach to kill with your bear hands, and then burn the remains. _

'_Give her heathen soul release, Carlisle . . . it is what I would have done for you, my son, had I been able to find you in time. Do not wait until there is nothing left of her; do not allow the devil to consume her immortal soul. If you truly love her, as you claim, do not condemn her to the innermost pit of hell along with you.'_

"I cannot," I whispered. "I am no demon, Father, I am not a killer of men; my oath is to preserve life, not to take it."

'_You are worse than a demon, worse than a killer . . . you are a __**cowered**__!_' my father's voice sneered. _'The heathen girl has more courage than you. She willingly put herself in front of a musket ball intended for you . . . she through her own life away to save your hell cursed hide. Now you refuse to grant her mercy!'_

"You're right, Father, I am a coward," I sighed as I watched yet another wave of pain spread across Little Deer's angelic face. "But not because I will not end her life. I am a coward, because . . . I would not take the steps necessary to preserve it. It should not be Aro's venom in her veins, changing her and giving her a new life . . . it should be mine!

"I am a coward because I couldn't find it within me to honor my pledge . . . to do _everything within my power_ to protect and preserve her. I am a coward because I failed her in body as a physician, in spirit as Panther Eyes, her beloved brother, and in soul as the _'Keeper'_ that Almighty God, _the Creator_, gave me the privilege to be in her life.

"But I will not fail her further! I will take charge of her; I will help her adjust to this new life and find her divine porous in it . . . just as I have." I stroked her fevered cheek lovingly with the back of my knuckles. "Fear not, Little Deer . . . my precious child, my beloved sister, all will be right and well again very soon. And you have my solemn word, I will not fail you ever again."

'_You truly are a demon, the wretched spawn of Satan himself,'_ my father's voice hissed reproachfully. _"To condemn a young one who is so utterly innocent is a sin most grievous. Woe to the shepherds who destroy and scatter the sheep of My pasture, sayeth the Lord!'_

"Then depart from me," I replied calmly to his fiery insult, "Lest by association with me, the wicked taint that is upon me settles upon you as well and stains your soul as black as mine."

0o0o0o0

_**And you all thought I was going to kill her! **_

_**Well actually, back when I first started this story, that was my intention . . . but over the course of writing it I became so enamered with the relationship between Little Deer and Carlisle tht I just couldn't do it. Yes, Blue is an old softy. I hope none of you are too disapointed with how thing turned out. A fwe more chapters yet to come I still have some lose ends to wrap up . . . . . remember, Litle Deer still thinks Carlisle and Aro are Sky Beings . . . she doesn't know the truth yet. And what ever happened to Iann?**_


	31. Chapter 31

**Note: **I do not own or have rights to Twilight or its characters!

**_AN: Hi gang, I spent all of last week on vacation in Calgary, Canada. My hubby was on a business trip up there and I flew in to meet him. He went to meetings while I went on excursions, but we both had a good time. It was my first trip outside the USA. I guess the highlight of the week, aside from spending time with my mate, was horseback riding in the Canadian Rockies, OUTSTANDING!_**

**_Anyhow, enjoy the chapter!_**

Chapter 31

**Newborn**

The sun had set hours ago as the dreadful third day of Little Deer's transformation drew to a close. I sat in the chair beside her bed, a place I had occupied almost exclusively for the past three days. She was quiet now, resting peaceful for a change; at twilight, her frail human heart had taken its last faltering beat. I sobbed briefly when the comforting thrum ended as I knew I would forever miss the sound of it.

When I first returned to find the aftermath of Aro's intervention, I was both furious and devastated. In spite of the gravity of her injuries, I never wanted this life for her. I would have given anything to change the course of events that led up to her shooting, I would have paid any price to watch her grow up and grow old as every human should. But that was no longer a viable reality; unless I wished to destroy her by my own hand, my beloved sister was now a vampire.

I closed my eyes for a moment as I fought down the swirling emotions that threatened to overpower me. I was still angry with Aro for his actions, though the intensity of my rage had cooled considerably. I felt profound sadness at the course of Little Deer's fate. With myself, I was thoroughly disgusted as once again I failed in my pledge of protection. Yet cutting an ever boarding swath through the heart of my melancholy and anger was a growing ribbon of contentment and relief. I would never have to experience the agonizing sting of grief that Little Deer's demise would inevitably bring.

My sister's soft moan drew me from my thoughts and I focused my attention on her. The cessation of her heartbeat was the final active phase of the transformation process. For the past several hours, her new body had simply been resting; birthing was exhausting work for any species. Now she was beginning to stir and, while her work was over, mine was just beginning. I had a whole new world to introduce her to.

"Little Deer," I whispered as I took her hand. "Open your eyes now, child . . . come back to me."

Slowly her eyelids parted, reviling a pair of bright crimson orbs; instantly I missed the limpid jade pools that I once knew. My only consolation was the knowledge that, with time and strict adherence to my prescribed diet, they would fade to a warm honey-gold like mine.

Her eyes didn't remain open long, she closed them almost immediately and her face twisted into a grimace. She pulled her hand away from me and put both of them firmly over her ears. Though I no longer had the thumping of her heart to warn me of her increasing agitation, I could easily read it in her demeanor.

"There, there now, child, calm down," I soothed quietly, "The change made your senses more acute, with time you will adjust."

She continued to hold her hands over her ears, blocking out a measure of the sound that bombarded her. I remembered the madding crescendo that accosted my sensitive ears as I first awakened in that dank London cellar. I thought my skull would explode.

"Try to pull the focus of you hearing inwards, ignore the noises beyond this room" I suggested. "And don't focus so much on the small sound; try to hear only the prominent ones. In time you will be able to adjust the volume and depth of your hearing at will and with very little effort."

She nodded and after a minute or two, she slowly pulled her hands away from her ears.

"Better," I asked softly and she nodded in response. I got up from my seat and proceeded to snuff out most of the candles in the room before returning to her bedside. "Now let's try opening our eyes again shall we; I've muted the light a bit so you should find it less painful this time."

Once more her eyelids fluttered open reviling her newborn's blood red eyes; this time, however, they remained open. A tentative smile spread across her lips and I nodded my approval. I had seen newborns before, when I lived as a guest in Volterra, most were wild and unpredictable when they first awakened and they remained that way for much of their first year. Little Deer's behavior was uncharacteristically sedate.

Her eyes remained focused on me as I took my seat again. "You're going to find that your body moves quite differently now; things will happen much faster and seemingly without any degree of thought, but you _must think_ . . . you must be very conscious and deliberate as you try to move, at least until you become accustomed to your new situation." I paused and then held my hand out to her. "Let's try to sit up now," I encouraged warmly.

She took my hand and with my support, she eased herself into a seated position on the edge of the bed. Her face beamed with satisfaction and pride at her accomplishment. I shared her sense of pride and I wore it plainly on my features.

"You're doing quite well, Little Deer," I praised her efforts cheerfully. "I'm very pleased."

"Can I get . . ." She began to speak but stopped abruptly as she heard the words that tumbled from her mouth. Her eyes went wide and the hands, which had once covered her ears, now shot to her mouth. Confusion and amazement clouded her features as, for the first time in almost two years, she stuck out _her tongue_. She tested it with her fingers in an effort to ascertain whether or not it was real. Her reaction made me chuckle.

Little Deer shot me a hurt look that made me feel instantly guilty. With effort, I repressed my mirth enough to speak. "The transformation process not only changes you," I explained gently. "It is rejuvenatory as well. Any injury in your physical body is mended . . . even missing or deformed limbs. In your case, your severed tongue was restored." Then I pointed to the soiled bandages that still wrapped her abdomen, "and your wounds were healed."

"Thunder Man is powerful," She murmured in aw, but the gravely quality of her voice indicated that her thirst currently overshadowed her emotions.

Her face twisted again as she rubbed her throat and attempted to clear it. I sighed as the sudden realization hit me; she was still unaware of our true nature and the difficult task of explaining the truth to her now fell to me.

"I think I am unwell, my brother." She insisted as her grimace deepened.

I shook my head. "You are not ill," I told her quietly. I made a concerted effort to maintain a calm level tone as I began my explanation. "The burning in your throat is not due to illness, but rather it is the calling card of your thirst. It will be with you, to some degree, for the rest of your immortal life."

"Do all Sky Beings feel this?"

I sighed as I absently ran the fingers of my right hand through my hair. This was going to be far more difficult than I thought. In the deep recess of my mind I cursed Aro for not explaining the truth to Little Deer before turning her.

'_It wasn't his place to do so,'_ my inner voice corrected me. _'You are the one who perpetuated the existence of the factious persona, Panther Eyes the Sky Being, therefore you are obligated to tell her the truth.'_

My inner voice was correct; there was no mistaking that fact. Still, I didn't relish the unpleasant duty that I was now faced with. I had once wondered when or if my compounded lies would ever come home to roost; they were here now, and raising more ruckus than a cockerel at dawn.

"Little Deer," I began gently; I would have to be cautious as the emotional pendulum of newborns tended to swing rather violently. "I have something that I need to . . . well, that is . . . there's something I must explain to you." I was so nervous, as I tried to guess how she would react, that I actually felt my mouth go dry. "Though it pains me to admit this, my child, and I meant neither harm nor malice by it, I'm afraid I . . . uhm . . . I'm afraid I've deceived you."

Her face twisted with confusion even as unasked questions danced in her crimson eyes. The way she looked at me stung my long silent heart so deeply that I thought it might break.

"I assure you, my deception was for your protection," I took up in my own defense. "You are very precious to me; had I told you the truth, it would have cost you your life."

"I do not understand, Panther Eyes," her confused scowl deepened.

My chest ached with grief as I continued the process of destroying the utopian fantasy that I had so meticulously crafted over the past year. "I know, child; instead of making things clear, I'm confusing you even further." I paused and once again and ran my fingers through my golden locks. "I'm sorry, but you must understand . . . this is quite difficult for me. I intended for you to live out the natural course of your mortal life believing me to be a Sky Being."

"You mean . . . you are not a Sky Being?" Shock etched ugly lines on her ethereal face, but instead of hearing anger in her voice at the revelation that she had been lied to, I heard pain instead. I would have preferred her rage, I would have welcomed it even . . . after all, I surely deserved it.

"No, Little Deer, I am not a Sky Being," I replied softly. The veil which separated the dark reality of my true nature from the persona of Panther Eyes had been rent in two; there was no escaping the truth now. "And unfortunately, my child, neither are you."

I watched as panic spread quickly through her; beginning first in her eyes, then consuming her features, and finally enveloping the rest of her as she gulped deep uneven breaths. If she still had a heartbeat, it would have pounded like a herd of stampeding buffalo. Her frightened eyes locked with mine and it took every thread of control I possessed just to maintain my composure.

"Calm down child," I soothed lovingly in an attempt to head off her anxiety. "You needn't work yourself up so. I'm here and I still love you . . . we'll sort this whole thing out together."

After several seconds she was somewhat settled again. I was pleased she was able to take charge of her emotions so quickly; this would prove useful later on as she attempted to master her control.

"If I am not a Sky Being, my brother . . . then what _am_ I?"

I sighed deeply as my eyes fell shut; I could no longer put off the inevitable. Over the past three days, I had ruminated endlessly on this very subject. I rehearsed the words I would use to explain what we are to her in my mind, turning them a hundred different ways, but none of them satisfied me. Now the moment was before me and I balked; gone was the mature self assured Carlisle who could speak with ease and grace, he was replace by a stumbling stuttering dolt who could barely manage to string three words together.

"_What are you_ . . . or to be more correct . . . uhm . . . _what are **we**_?" I managed to spit out the mangled question. "You see, child . . . uhm, well . . . there is no word in the Sioux language . . . no reference, as far as I can tell, in your legends that would adequately describe us. We . . . uhm, well . . . we are, uhm . . ."

"What am I," she demanded again. My inability to give her a concise answer was elevating her anxiety again.

"You . . . I . . . the one that you call Thunder Man . . . we are all . . . uhm . . . we are all . . . vampires." As the last word fell from my lips I felt as though a great weight had been lifted from my shoulders. Even though I had yet to explain what a vampire was, a certain lightness settled over me as the truth finally emerged from the murky shadows of my deception. I hated lying to Little Deer, and I vowed never to do so again.

"What is a vampire," she inquired softly, her tone was so low that it was nearly inaudible. "Is it another name for a Sky Being?"

"Though I wish it were otherwise, a vampire is in no way related to a Sky Being," I dismissed gently. "Some of the things which I have told you are true; we are indeed immortal, we are impervious to human weapons, we do not consume human food, and we do not sleep. But that is only the beginning of things.

"I mentioned already your acute senses and the fact that your body will move quite differently now," I continued with calm deliberateness. "We are a predatory species and when I take you outside to hunt shortly, I will demonstrate your new body mechanics to you and then you will likely understand my meaning better."

"Hunt," she interrupted quizzically.

"I have never hidden from you the fact that I regularly hunt," I insisted as my voice slipped effortlessly into teaching tone. "It is a fundamental part of our nature, Little Deer. What I did keep from you was the specifics of those hunts . . . you assumed that, as a Sky Being, I transformed into a panther and thus devoured the flesh of my prey. That is not the case. Firstly, we do not become anything more than what we are. Secondly, we do not consume the flesh of what we kill. Our sustenance comes from the essence of our prey . . . our soul food source is the blood of those animals we hunt."

"Blood," her face twisted in disgust as she repeated the word.

I understood her initial reaction, as it had been my own. Upon first awakening and realizing what I had become and subsequently what I must do to survive, I was repulsed. The bitter memory of those first few weeks and months as I denied my thirst and sought destruction still lingered painfully in my mind.

"It is our natural food," I assured her gently. "And while you might find the notion of drinking blood very unappealing at the moment, when you are hunting and in the throes of your bloodlust it will call to you and enchant your senses as nothing before ever has."

Her hand went to her throat again and I watched her swallow painfully.

"In fact, I should probably take you hunting now," I observed. "You're likely quite uncomfortable with your thirst burning like fire in the back of your throat." I stood and helped my sister to her feet. She was a bit ungainly at first but, just as a new foal adjust to life on its slender legs, so to would Little Deer adjust to her new body.

She took a few stumbling steps before she go the feel of her new legs. Once I felt certain that she was steady, I led the way into the hall and towards the stairs. I was just reaching the top of the stairwell when I noticed the near silent padding of my sister's bear feet no longer sounded from behind me. Curious, I turned around and found her standing stock still in the middle of the hall. What now, my mind groaned as I covered the three short strides back to where she stood.

"What's the matter?" I asked softly. Newborns had a tendency towards distractibility, but I couldn't determine what, exactly, had caught my sister's overly sensitive attention.

As I approached her, her eyes had been unfocused and glazed. Now she fixed me with determined twin crimson orbs. "I am sorry, I have upset my brother. Thunder Man insisted you would be happy, but it is clear you are not. I did not mean to . . ."

Her words trailed off as I pulled her into my embrace. Instantly I missed her human warmth, but I pushed those thoughts aside and focused on Little Deer. For some strange reason, she seemed to believe I was displeased with her.

"There, there now my child," I soothed gently. "All is well, there's no reason for distress."

"He said you would be happy," she muttered into my shirt, "but you are not. I did not mean to make my brother angry. Sadness and loneliness haunted your eyes when we first met and it made my heart weep to see it." She was sobbing now, and I pulled her a little closer. Her confession was heart wrenching to hear, but like puss from an infected wound, I knew she needed to get this out of her system.

"When Thunder Man offered to make me a Sky Being," she went on between sniffles, "I accepted. I could not stand to think of you all alone again, I could not cross into the Sky World knowing that sadness and loneliness would haunt my brother's eyes once more."

I was speechless; my sister selflessly place her body between me and a pistol ball to save my life and now she had accepted an eternity walking the earth as a blood drinking beast to save me from loneliness. Never before had I encountered such courage, never before had I known such profound love. Over the course of the past year, I had deluded myself into believing that I was Little Deer's savior, that I was _her_ redeemer and _her_ Keeper. It was not I, however, who saved my sister, but rather it was she who was saving me. The ransom of Little Deer was paid out in the coinage of her very blood and soul so that I might be forever forged into a better man. The price was willingly paid that I might know the true happiness of having a family and so that I might experience the purist love imaginable on this side of heaven.

I continued to hold her form a time as my stunned mind tried to gather itself and form coherent thoughts. As I stroked her silky brown hair I shushed her tenderly and kissed the crown of her head. It was an unspeakable travesty that this innocent creature should think that I was angry with her. While, on a personal level, I might have wanted things to turn out differently, I couldn't deny that I was glad Little Deer was still alive and in my company.

"I am not angry with my sister," I whispered into her hair. The words fell from my lips in perfect Sioux. "My heart overflows with joy that you are still here, with me, and that I did not have to suffer the grief of your death. Do not waste another moment on sorrow or in worrying about my wrath, instead let your heart rejoice and know only my warmth and love."

She tightened her grip around me and I found myself chuckling softly. The world and all its troubles melted away in that moment as the realization settled into me; happiness and contentment were mine, and nothing else mattered. Whatever challenges Little Deer's new life brought our way, we would take it in stride and keep moving forward . . . together.

"Come now," I whispered as I slowly untangled myself from my sister's embrace. "I must teach you to hunt."


	32. Chapter 32

**Note: **I do not own or have rights to Twilight or its characters!

**_Happy Fourth! Here's a short little chapter that I meant to post yesterday. Instead, I spent part of the day in the ER with a migrain from h*** and the rest of the day in bed druged out of my goard. I'm glad I don't get the really really bad ones that send me to the hospital very often, but when I do ... oh baby, hang on because its going to be a bumpy ride._**

Chapter 32

**Hunter's Blessing**

We stood together, sequestered among the tree near the top of the ridgeline. Below us, in the shallow valley, a small herd of deer grazed calmly near the edge of a stream. I had hunted this area often since arriving in St John's Crossing and knew it to be plentiful with game and rarely frequented by humans. The overcast day and the light drizzle that had been falling since the first pale grey light of dawn helped hid our presence.

"What must I do?" she asked in a breathy whisper.

"Try for one of the does; they're smaller and easier to catch." I insisted as I pointed to the nearest animal.

"Will I not need a bow or a throwing spear," she inquired as she looked down at her bare hands.

I couldn't help my amused grin as her question was so utterly innocent. "No, my child, you posses within yourself all that you require," I answered kindly. "You do not need a weapon."

She shook her head in disbelief. I couldn't fathom why she seemed to doubt me; when I left to hunt, I never carried a weapon. Perhaps a demonstration was in order, I mused, that might serve to answer her unvoiced questions and give her some inspiration.

"Would you like me to go first and show you how it is done?"

After a moment's consideration, she nodded. "I do not wish to fail and disappoint my brother."

"Little Deer, I have never known any among our kind who has failed to learn to hunt." I smiled as I took her gently by the shoulders, "You may miss occasionally in the beginning, your kills might be a bit sloppy, and you'll likely make a gory mess out of yourself as you feed, but none of these things would cause me disappointment. I assure you . . . in time, you will master the art of the hunt." Then I playfully tapped the end of her nose with my index finger, "Now watch and learn."

I left her in the trees as I stalked my way down the ridge; my predatory senses were focused on the only buck in the little group. The closer I got to where the herd grazed the more of me I allowed to slip under the control of my inner beast. Eventually only a thin sliver of my conscious remained aware above the ravenous blood thirsty demon that wantonly sought its prey. When I finally fell upon the unsuspecting buck, even the thin sliver vanished.

It wasn't until I raised my head from the deer's broken neck that I became aware of my surroundings again. I allowed the creature's drained corps to fall lightly to the earth beside me as my eyes scanned the area for Little Deer. A part of me hoped she would follow me down the ridge and claim her own prey as they scattered after my attack, but I wasn't surprised to find her still standing where I left her. I beckoned her with a wave and then went about seeking a suitable burial site for the remains of my meal.

I was just beginning to dig a hole behind a fallen tree when she arrived. "We must properly dispose of what is left after we feed." I explained, answering her yet unasked question. "This helps us maintain our anonymity."

I glanced up and noticed her frown; she was obviously disturbed by something. I silently prayed that she wasn't going to be difficult when it came to hunting; the last thing I needed was a squeamish newborn. "What troubles you?" I sighed as I hauled the carcass into the prepared hole.

"To waste such a fine buck," she shook her head sadly, "How many mouths it would feed, and the hide would make at least one shirt or a pair of leggings. You risk offending the spirits by letting good meat and hide rot in a hole."

Now her reaction made sense; among her people, nothing from a hunter's kill was wasted. Every part of an animal was put to some good use, right down to the hooves, bones, and sinew. I was committing the worst form of sin by discarding what was, in her mind, perfectly usable material.

"This seems like an atrocity to you," I began as I filled in the hole with loose black soil. "However, before you judge me too harshly allow me to explain. Disposing of our prey in this manor not only serves to help us maintain the secrecy of our existence, it helps to protect the other forest creatures from harm." I looked up briefly from my work to find her scowling; she was listening, but I hadn't convinced her yet. "You see, once we feed from our prey the meat becomes contaminated with our venom and is therefore unfit for consumption. Any creature that might come upon the carcass and subsequently feast on the flesh would soon become sick and die." I paused my lecture long enough to move the fallen tree so that its massive trunk covered the deer's shallow grave. "It would be very irresponsible of us not handle the remains of our prey with extreme care; to simply leaving them lying about would be reckless and put the whole forest at risk."

She nodded thoughtfully, but I could tell she still saw the disposal of a whole buck as somehow wasteful. There was little I could do to change her perception at the moment. Hopefully, with time, she would come to see the logic of things.

"Right then," I sighed as I straightened from my work. "Now it's your turn. Let's see if you can find the rest of the herd; point your nose into the wind and see if you can't scent them . . . they ought not to have run very far."

I had already located the reaming deer about a mile east of our current location, but I wanted Little Deer to learn to do this for herself. I watched with a certain sense of pride as my sister closed her eyes and took several deep breaths. I knew the precise moment when she found them, as her face beamed. When she pointed a finger in the correct direction, I smiled and nodded.

"After you, my child," I insisted politely.

It didn't take long to reach the place where the reaming deer stopped to continue their grazing. They were calm now, the fright of my attack a distant memory. We staked out a location downwind of them and watched their movement for a while. I was hoping Little Deer would take up the initiative, but I soon realized I would have to prod her a bit.

"If you're going to make an attempt, you should do so now, before they drift off to another clearing." I urged gently.

She glanced up at me; worry danced in her crimson eyes. I patted her shoulder lightly. "Trust your instincts," I assured her as I gave her a little nudge forward, "You'll do just fine."

After one last reluctant look, she began stalking the little herd. She made her way slowly through the undergrowth until she was nearly half way to the nearest animal and then she stopped. At first I thought she might have become distracted or perhaps she had lost her nerve; for a moment I considered making this first kill for her. But, then I heard her faintly whispering and I strained my predatory ears to make out what she was saying.

"Little Sister, we are both children of Mother Earth and Father Sky," she murmured reverently as she gazed intently at the nearest doe, " I watch you now; you are strong, fast, and nimble. I admire you, my sister. My heart is heavy as I watch you, as I humbly ask the hunter's blessing. Please forgive me, for taking your life; I only do so in order that I might live. I promise, I will be quick and you will not suffer. Let your strength become my strength. May your spirit fly free and straight on its journey back to the Creator. I thank you, Little Sister, for your generous gift."

The words of her prayer were filled with such sincerity and anguish that I felt ghost tears well in my eyes. Long ago I cased saying grace as I felt it was somewhat blasphemous to thank God for His bounty when my portion and cup consisted of the shed blood of one of His creations. Perhaps I was wrong; perhaps it was all the more reason to thank Him and to remember the blessings He has bestowed upon me.

I watched her pounce then, falling on the nearest deer with ease. She quickly subdued her prey, snapping its neck as I had demonstrated and, after only a moment of hesitation, she settled in to feed. I felt both relief and pride as I watched her take her first meal; it was only the first of many new hurdles we would face together and she had succeeded admirably in conquering it.


	33. Chapter 33

**Note:** I do not own or have rights to Twilight or its characters!

Chapter 33

**Shadow of Death**

The first few weeks of her new life passed quietly for Little Deer and me. We settled back easily into our standing routine, the only difference being that I took her hunting either before or after returning from my shift at the fort hospital. She was a fast learner and I was pleased with her progress.

In an effort to begin the process of desensitizing her to the scent of humans and human blood, I began regularly bringing home soiled bandages from the hospital. They were easy to come by and just as easily disposed of when our sessions were done. Her initial reaction the first time I pulled the gory rags from my medical bag was to run for the woods as fast as her immortal legs could carry her. With time and copious amounts of encouragement, however, she was becoming more accustomed to the scent; even learning to hold her breath when things became too overwhelming. She was making adequate progress given her tender age, but I doubted she would be ready for real human contact for many, many months yet. As to when I might fully trust her around human blood, I could not say.

I closed the journal I was reading and left my quiet office; my shift at the hospital this evening had been relatively peaceful. Winter brought with it a variety of seasonal illnesses, but since no army in its right mind likes to fight this time of the year, we didn't see the more gruesome injuries. I sighed as I walked onto the ward; I had just enough time to make one final check of my patients before ending my shift and heading home.

Satisfied that the men in my charge were sorted out and in the capable hands of my diurnal colleagues, I left for the stable to retrieve Cloud. As I waited for the blacksmith's apprentice to saddle my horse, one of my night orderlies, Private Jones, rounded the corner and practically ran me over. When I glared at him he dropped his gaze and fumbled for an explanation.

"Sorry, sir," he muttered apologetically. "I wanted to get cleaned up and make myself presentable before my Uncle gets here."

A family visit, I mused. I suppose I could forgive his rudeness given the circumstances. "That's quite alright Private, visits from family out here in the wilderness are a rare blessing; especially this time of the year."

"I wish I could say his visit was all pleasure, Dr. Cullen," he admitted with a shrug. "But with Uncle Bixby, everything is business. He wants me to do a little scouting for him . . . my uncle is a bounty hunter on the trail of a runaway slave."

"A runaway, at this time of the year," I was genuinely perplexed. With snow and frigid temperatures, it would stand to reason that even the boldest and most desperate runaway would balk.

"I know," he nodded, clearly reading the surprise in my expression. "But I guess the poor devil was counting on the weather working in his favor . . . that no one would want to hunt him down in the dead of winter. With my Uncle, that don't matter; the cold weather just makes him meaner and more determined."

"Indeed," I sighed as I noticed my horse being brought forward. "Take care Private, this weather is abominable and the conditions in the backcountry are dangerous this time of year."

"I'll be careful, sir." I heard him insist as I swung myself onto Cloud's back. With an understanding nod I urged the gelding forward towards home.

**0o0o0o0o0o0o**

A bright smile curled my lips as I caught sight of our little farmhouse through the breaks in the trees. A brisk arctic wind swirled around me suddenly, ruffling my coat tail and threatening to steal my hat. Cloud tossed his head in irritation as he snorted his protest at having to be out in the inclement weather. The thick blanket of heavy grey snow clouds the filled the sky from horizon to horizon gave ominous testimony to the coming storm.

"Steady on, old boy" I encouraged him as I patted his neck. "Soon you'll be back in your nice cozy barn. Ayala will likely have some warm mash for you along with a lengthy grooming." I chuckled then as I thought about the way my sister blatantly spoiled our horses.

She had been concerned, when she first awakened to this new life, that the horses would reject her . . . or worse, that she might accidently kill one of them. Thankfully neither event had occurred; I could only too well imagine how devastated she would have been if things had turned out badly.

The wind began to gust again as we trotted into the yard; it seemed to come from every direction at once tossing my coat tail and Cloud's mane first one way and then another. It was going to be a blizzard, all the signs were there. Hunting would be difficult if not impossible for the duration of the storm as the animals would be sheltering and therefore hard to find. My thoughts suddenly turned to Private Jones; I hoped he and his Uncle would be alright out in the back country.

I slipped nimbly from Cloud's back and led him into the warm barn; returning him once again to his comfortable stall. After hastily removing his tack, I left him to relax. "Don't worry," I assured him as I closed the stall door behind me. "I'll send your mistress out straight away."

I crossed the yard and bounded up the front steps, landing with a light step on the porch. It was then that I noticed the front door standing slightly open. My stomach threatened to turn itself inside out as I pushed the door and entered the front hall. As I crossed the threshold, the sickening salty-sweet slightly metallic scent that I was all too familiar with from my work at the hospital filled my nose. I groaned softly as I cursed under my breath.

"Ayala," I called, but received no answer. She was here; her scent was too strong in the house for her not to be.

As I made a circuit of the downstairs, I called for her again. "Little Deer, where are you child?" This time I heard her soft whimper; it was coming from upstairs. I flew up the stairs to the second story; the scent of my sister mingled with that of human blood was stronger up here. I took several deep breaths in an attempt to calm myself before starting down the hall.

"Come now child," I soothed gently. "Where are you; there's no need to hide."

She whimpered again and this was followed by soft sobbing; the sound was coming from her room. I edged towards her bedroom door, nudging it open slowly with the knuckles of one hand. The scent of human blood that rolled out to greet me would have been enough to throw any other vampire into a bloodthirsty frenzy. I stepped with care into my sister's room; her sobs were now heart wrenching in their intensity.

"Little Deer," I whispered as I caught sight of her huddled in the far corner. "God in Heaven, child . . . what happened?"

A part of me already knew; she reeked of human blood. The dried dark red essence caked her hair, streaked her face and hands, and covered the front of her pale blue cotton dress. I approached her slowly, but the closer I drew to her the harder she cried. By the time I was beside her, her small body quaked as she wailed with grief.

"There, there now," I soothed as I reached to scoop her up; to my surprise she fought my effort to provide physical comfort. "It's alright, my child," I continued, undaunted by her thrashing. Finally I managed to pull her into my arms and she slumped against my chest, weeping tearlessly into the front of my waist coat and shirt.

It was sheer agony to see her this way. I thought our relative seclusion would serve as insurance against stray humans happening by. It was my hoped to guide my sweet sister through her newborn years without such calamities to mar her innocents.

"There now, I've got you," I cooed as I picked her up and carried her back down stairs to the kitchen. After settling her in a chair, I poured water from the kettle into a large wash basin and fetched clean rags from the linen cabinet. "Let's get you cleaned up now . . . that would be nice, yes?" I whispered encouragingly as I soaked one of the rags in the warm water and began gingerly cleaning the caked blood from her face and hands. By the time I started on her hair, she was much calmer.

"Please child," I insisted in a tender tone, "Tell me what happened." Thought I was certain I knew the gist of things, I wanted her to talk about it.

"My brother will be angry," she muttered.

"Nonsense," I dismissed gently. "You're very young Little Deer, barely two months old; accidents at your age are to be expected."

"My brother will hate me," she countered.

I tipped her chin up so that her crimson eyes met my golden ones, "There is nothing you could ever do that would make me hate you . . . _absolutely nothing_."

"But a man is dead," She insisted, her eyes still locked with mine. "I killed him and I drank his blood."

"I know," I replied sadly.

For a time we were both silent as I finished washing the dried gore from my sisters mahogany locks. When it was clean, I brought her a fresh dress from her room and gave her a measure of privacy in order for her to change clothes. After tossing her soiled blue dress into the hearth and watching the greedy flames begin to devour them, I took up a brush and busied myself with brushing the knots out of Little Deer's damp hair.

"I went out to the barn, to tend Willow and Flint," she began shyly. "I had just finished feeding them when I heard a noise coming from the corn crib." After a short pause and a deep breath she continued. "I went to see what the noise was; I thought it might be a raccoon . . . but, it was not. I left the barn and as soon as I stepped outside, the wind changed suddenly and his scent fell over my like a wet blanket. I did not have time to even think of holding my breath before my thirst overpowered me. The next thing I remember, he was lying dead at my feet and the taste of his blood was still heavy in my mouth."

It was as I had feared; in her youth and inexperience, her predatory instincts had gotten the better of her. She fell upon the hapless human before she could get her wits about her and run the other way.

"All is well, child," I kissed the crown of her head as I reassured her. "As I said, you are frightfully young and mistakes are inevitable; you didn't mean to do it." I paused briefly as I gathered myself to ask the next difficult question. "What did you do with the corps?"

She hesitated before pointing towards the ceiling.

"Up stairs . . . where," I couldn't imagine why Little Deer would have brought the body inside or where she might have hidden it.

"Attic," she muttered.

"Great Scott, child," I exclaimed, forgetting to be mindful of my tone. "Why on earth did hide the remains in the attic?"

She whimpered and I could see sobs gathering behind her mortified eyes. I cursed myself for not being more careful. "Settle down now, I did not mean that the way it sounded." I pinched the bridge of my nose in frustration, just as I had seen my father do when I was a child. "I only meant . . . oh, never mind." She continued to look at me as if she fully expected me to snatch her across my knee and take my strap to her; the mere thought of doing such a thing made me shudder with disgust.

"Go to the linen cabinet and fetch a sheet," She needed something to do in order to distract her. "Then meet me by the attic stairs."

I climbed the narrow steps that lead to the cold void of the attic. Behind me I heard Little Deer soft footfalls as her bare feet padded on the crudely sawn planks of the stairs. Her affect was still somber as she joined me with the sheet, my words of encouragement doing little good to push aside her grief and guilt. Though I hated to see her so distraught, it was a positive indication that she was remorseful and therefore not likely to repeat the incident willfully.

I inhaled deeply at the top of the stairs; the cold musty air was heavy with the scent of death and human blood. "Show me," I whispered. Obediently my sister slipped past me and led the way to where her victim lay. He was under the ventilation transom; the same place I'd found Little Deer half frozen after Henry's unwelcome call.

"Damn," I muttered without thinking as I got a better look at him; my sister recoiled slightly at my uncharacteristic use of profanity.

The poor man was of average height, muscular, and likely in his mid twenties. His mode of dress was common; work clothes, second hand boots with a few holes, a wool coat that was at least two sizes too big for him. His two most distinguishing features however, were the scars that covered his body attesting to his life in bondage and the distinct cast of his skin; even in death it retained the rich color of roasted coffee beans. The man that now lay in eternal repose at my feet was a slave . . . more than likely, the same one Private Jones and his uncle were on the hunt for.

I sighed as I knelt to examine my sister's handy work; when the storm cleared the search would bring the men here, to my doorstep. "Rip four, three finger wide strips from the bottom edge of the sheet, if you would please," I instructed her absently as I considered a believable cover story. The body was rather badly mauled and, if it was spring and not winter, I would have blamed the death on a bear attack.

When I stood again Little Deer handed me the sheet and cloth strips. I nodded my approval; every encouragement, no matter how small, was important right now. I lay my hand lightly on her shoulder, "Go down to the tool shed and fetch the pick and shovel, then wait for me on the porch . . . I'll be down directly."

An hour later I was standing waist deep in the bottom of humble grave I had just finished excavating; only two short months ago it was Little Deer whom I was contemplating burial for. Now it was the victim of her unfortunate accidental attack. As the first silent snowflakes began to fall, I reverently placed the poor man's body in its final resting place.

"The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want . . ."I began reciting the twenty third Psalms as my eyes remained fixed on the sheet shrouded form lying in the grave before me. Little Deer was at my side, she hadn't spoken a word since she led me to the attic. " . . . He restoreth my soul; he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake . . ." Her silence and the continued look of sadness and regret that marked her features had me very worried. " . . . Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me . . ." I finished the verse and said a brief prayer for the deceased man's soul before taking up the shovel to begin back filling the grave. Though I wasn't a minister like my father, I felt confident that both Heaven and Earth had been duly honored.

While I worked, Little Deer began a slow mournful chant; when I took a moment to listen closely to the words, I realized it was a death song. When her voice finally fell silent, she cut off a small lock of her hair with her belt knife, held it up to the sky, and then tossed it into the grave. Her eyes met mine then, seeking whatever approval or reprisal I might offer. I gave her a kind smile and a nod; who was I to criticize her traditions. In fact, she would need every tool at her disposal in order to cope with the guilt and shame that I saw in her expressive crimson eyes.

"Do you think his ghost will haunt me?" she asked shyly as we walked back to the house.

I shook my head, "I'm certain his soul is at peace; resting in the welcoming bosom of the Creator."

"I did not mean to kill him, but I could not stop." She muttered, her eyes remaining firmly fixed on the path before us.

"I know child, no one blames you." I insisted kindly as I wrapped an arm around her shoulders. I didn't tell her that death was the only freedom that a slave would ever know and that in killing him she'd given him the only measure of emancipation he would likely receive. Nor did I bother to inform her that her predatory act had probably saved the poor man from a much less merciful fate that awaited him at the hands of his owner. I doubted that this somber knowledge would give her any comfort or ease her burden of guilt.


	34. Chapter 34

**Note:** I do not own or have rights to Twilight or its characters!

Chapter 34

**Atonement**

The blizzard lasted two arduous days. My sister's somber mood made waiting out the storm a more laborious task than usual. Every time I tried to broach the subject of her guilty feelings concerning the death of the slave, she would cast me a hurt glare before leaving the room for a while. After I number of thwarted attempts, I simply let the matter drop; she would come to me in her own time.

This morning, in spite of the clouds that continued to blanket the sky, the snow and wind had abated. For two nights I was unable to attend to my duties at the hospital. While I could travel in foul weather with ease, I remained at home to maintain appearances as no human would venture out in such a fierce storm. Tonight I would return to the fort and see how both my patients and my colleagues had fared in the wake of nature's fury.

"Panther Eyes," I looked up from the books, abstracts and other paperwork that covered my desk to find my sister standing in the doorway of my study.

"Come in child," I welcomed her with a smile as I stood up.

"You are busy," she replied a bit awkwardly after taking note of the work arranged before me. "It is not important; I will not trouble you now."

"Nonsense," I insisted as I stepped from behind my desk and crossed the room. It looked as though she might finally be in the mood to talk; this was something I wished to encourage. "This is just some personal research, a form of continuing education if you will . . . it does not in any way take precedence over the needs of family." I took her gently by the elbow and led her towards the two comfortable wingback chairs near my study's small fireplace. "Now tell me, what's on your mind?" I asked enthusiastically as I took my seat.

She sighed deeply and I watched a whole host of emotions dance across her face even as indecision about where to begin played behind her eyes. "It should not have happened," she finally blurted when her pent up feelings could be kept in check no longer. "I should not have killed that man . . . I have done something wicked and you, my brother, act as if it is nothing. You are not angry, but you should be. You say that because I am young, because I am still a newborn, it is to be expected; so you accept it and insist that I should do the same." She fixed me then with sad eyes, "How can my brother stand to gaze upon me; I have disgraced you, I have disgraced your lodge, and what is worse . . . I have disgraced myself."

A sudden wave of intense revulsion washed through me causing my inhuman stomach to attempt turning itself inside out. It was her gift, made active by her tumultuous emotional state; I was experiencing my sister's gut churning internal war.

"Little Deer, there is absolutely no reason for your continued self-flagellation," I was trying to sound gentle and logical at the same time. "As I have said repeatedly; it was a tragic yet unavoidably accident. This sort of thing is common with newborns as your control is still tenuous at best, now . . ."

"Did you have an _unavoidable accident_ when you were a young one, Panther Eyes?" Desperation rang in her voice as she sought the comfort of a shared experience. For her sake, I wished my control had not been so stalwart . . . for her sake I now wished that I had slipped, just once.

"No," I answered reluctantly. "But I am the exception rather than the rule, my child." I didn't give her an opportunity to dwell on the initial portion of my reply. "Our particular lifestyle is highly irregular for our species, Little Deer. Human blood _is_ our natural food, to choose not to imbibe in it and instead seek sustenance from the blood of large game animals puts a considerable stress on us . . . especially a newborn like you."

"My brother did not have any accidents when he was my age . . . not even one?" She huffed. "If you can do this, I should be able to do this also."

I sighed quietly, my sister held herself to an almost impossible standard; _mine_. "When I was your age," I began softly, "I lived cloistered in a cave in a remote part of England, far removed from any human habitation." I seldom discussed my bleak past, but Little Deer needed to understand the enormous difference between our beginnings. "It was almost two and a half years before I would have my first brief encounter with a human and two decades before I trusted myself enough to live in close proximity to a small village." I paused for a moment and took stock of her expression; she still appeared quite anguished. This was going to take time. "Had I stumbled upon a human when I was but two months of age, as you did, I can grantee you that the outcome would likely have been horrific."

She remained silent for a time as she considered my words. Unfortunately, her anguish didn't seem to abate and if anything, the look of it on her face appeared to deepen. The accidental death of this poor anonymous slave caused a gargantuan abscess on my sister's soul and we were nowhere near the end of draining the puss from it.

"But I killed a man, Panther Eyes," she finally insisted with an exasperated groan. "And this does not trouble you; you did not raise your voice with outrage. I do not understand my brother's calm and forgiving ways; Red Pony would have denounced me and cast me out, Jack and Henry would have beaten me or maybe even killed me."

Dear God, I mused, she was practically begging me to punish her. The atmosphere of the room was so charged with her emotions that I could feel the force of her gift slowly consuming every ounce of my will. As if it possessed an intelligence all its own, my hand absently brushed against the buckle of my belt; my delft fingers unfastening it in a single swift motion. Hazy memories of my father's disciplinary sessions wafted through my mind causing the breath to catch in my throat. As a lad, I could never quite decide which was worse, the fiery sting of his strap on the exposed skin of my tender hind parts or the malicious bite of the sermon that he delivered with each and every stroke.

I was drowning in the sea of my sister's turbulent emotions; I took a deep breath and shook myself free of the maelstrom of Little Deer's gift. When I regained a measure of my self-awareness, I found myself standing, poised before her with my belt tightly clinched and doubled in my hand. When I looked up and saw the expression in her wide crimson eyes, utter disgust suffused me. I tossed the strap aside with the same level of disdain most men reserved for articles tainted by the foulest sorcery.

I sighed deeply. In spite of her own belief to the contrary, my sister needed compassion not discipline, she needed forgiveness and not wrath. None among our kind would hold her in contempt for her actions; she had simply done that which comes naturally to us. I was about to apologies for my frightening behavior and assure her once more that the slave's death was accidental and that she was in no way culpable when my inner voice interrupted me.

"_It is not your forgiveness that she requires,"_ the voice gently whispered, _"Even a dispensation from the very mouth of the Creator would not relieve the burden that Little Deer labors under. Her guilt and shame are demons of her own design and therefore it is by her hand alone that they must be vanquished."_

At first I didn't register the meaning of my inner man's words and I was about to protest the notion, but before I could muster a sound argument my imagination took over. I stood once more on the edge of The White Cliffs of Dover; before me, the great blue-grey expanse of the English Channel dominated my vision.

"_Have you forgotten, Carlisle?"_ my inner voice asked sadly as I looked down from my dizzying perch. Below me the angry sea churned away in its epic battle to devour the rocky shore. _"Once upon a time, your own demons ran rampant." _An errant gust of brine flavored wind buffeted my face, tousling my golden locks. I pushed the toe of one boot out until it jutted over the edge, and then I took a deep cleansing breath to calm myself in the face of what I knew I must do. _"The fault of your new existence was not your own, yet you blamed yourself for the beast which you had become."_ Effortlessly and seemingly of their own volition my feet left the security of the precipices; I was falling towards the comforting certainty of my own doom on the crags below. _"It was not the forgiveness of you fellow men or the grace and mercy of Almighty God that you required." _The rocks and my death were speeding towards me at an alarming rate; already I could make out the details of each and every barnacle and patch of seaweed that clung to the jagged grey rocks_. "There was only one entity who could grant you the degree of clemency that would bring peace and healing to your troubled soul"_

My plummet ended abruptly just inches above the rocks as my imagination released me and my vision cleared; once more I was confronted with the present as my demoralized sister sat in anguish before me._ "Guilt is an injury as deep as any wound to living flesh,"_ my inner voice continued, _"It must heal from within before it can heal on the surface. Forgiveness, Carlisle, must start, not with your words of pardon, but as a spark of renewed light within Little Deer's own heart."_

The voice receded back into the depth of my mind leaving me to pounder the wisdom it had imparted. For the first time since that faithful day, I actually understood Little Deer's dilemma. I finally knew how to begin ministering to my sister's troubled heart.

"Whatsoever thou shalt bind on earth shall be bound in heaven: and whatsoever thou shalt loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven." I whispered the nineteenth verse of the sixteenth chapter of Mathew's gospel. Though I remembered my father preaching many a sermon from this seemingly simple verse, I always felt that he lacked a true understanding of its power.

"What does that mean?" For a moment the self reproach evaporated from her features to be replaced by innocent wonder.

"It means many things," I replied warmly. My father had used this verse to justify the condemnation of the unrighteous and the ungodly, but as with every sharp sword this verse could cut both ways; the words had yet another, more powerful interpretation.

"In this particular application," I took up when she continued to remain silent, "It refers to the power of forgiveness."

"How so, my brother," I watched skepticism replace innocent wonder.

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly before beginning. "I could assure you, every moment of every day . . . from now until the sun and the moon fall from the sky, the stars diapered from the heavens, and the earth crumbled into dust . . . that _you are forgiven_ for your transgression, but it would count for naught.

"You could stand before the Creator at the dawning of each new day and at the waning of the same, until time and creation are no more, and beg for His forgiveness. Though He would willingly set it before you as a glowing jewel that only required you to grasp it in your precious hands . . . still you would not receive it.

"Whatsoever thou shalt bind, Little Deer remains bound until such time as thou shalt loosed it." I placed my hand lovingly on her shoulder and squeezed gently. "Forgiveness is s gift freely offered and therefore it must freely be received, but in order to accept the forgiveness of others, you must first . . . _forgive yourself_. Unfortunately, the latter is not always an easy task and it often requires much effort to be realized."

"How do I do this, my brother," desperation was mixed with anguish in her voice. "How can I forgive myself when a man is dead because of me?"

"Tell me sister, what good comes from your continued self persecution?" I asked in reply. "Will it cause that poor man rise up from his eternal slumber and walk the earth once more?"

She turned her gaze away from me then; preferring to stare at the low fire that burned in the hearth. By her reaction I could tell that I was very close to a nerve.

"Among the people," she began quietly. Her gaze remained fixed on the flickering flames as she continued, "If one member of the tribe wrongs another, then something must be done to make right that wrong.

"Once there was a hunter who accidently caused the death of a member of his hunting party. My father and the council of elders agreed that the death was an accident, but the wrong had still been committed. In response my father ordered the guilty hunter to support the other man's elderly mother, widow, and child. This continued until the mother died, the boy became a man, and the widow took another husband. Only when all the dead man's obligations were taken away was the hunter free of this burden . . . only then was he truly forgiven."

When examined in the light of her upbringing, her logic made sense. As with ever situation she encountered, Little Deer approached life's issues and difficulties in the context of tribal culture. Unfortunately, I wasn't entirely sure how this situation could be resolved in a meaningful way for her.

"_You have forgotten,"_ my inner voice chided. _"Restitution doesn't necessarily have to be made directly, it can be just as liberating when made globally." _Before I could question what my inner man meant by his enigmatic comment my eyes came to rest on an object that personified who I had become; my medical bag. Instantly the words made sense to me. Restitution and forgiveness for me came in the form of the sense of purpose that my medical practice brought me. By helping humans and saving lives where my meager skills would allow, I redeemed not only my own existence, but in some small way I paid penance for the existence of my entire race.

"When we first met, you asked a very poignant question," memories of that pleasant autumn night suffused my mind. "What am I destined to do then, you inquired of me, how will I help the people?"

"And my brother replied that he did not know that my destiny was known only to the Creator."

"Indeed," I nodded. "And that is still true, only God knows the breadth and depth of His plan for our lives. But with honest effort and diligence you can seek out the purpose for which the Creator made you . . . you can determine the reason for your existence."

"How does that help the dead slave or make right the wrong I have committed?"

"The man you killed is beyond needing our help, there is nothing you or I can do for him," I admitted sadly. "What is done is done. This does not mean, however, that there is nothing more for you to do . . . that you cannot atone for the wrong you have committed.

"You must find your purpose, Little Deer, as I found mine in the practice of medicine. Then you must apply yourself to that purpose with your whole heart, your whole soul, and all the strength that is within you. Dedicate your life to the task that the Creator places before you and be ever mindful that you never lose sight of the reason you were called." I smiled at her then and added, "We are all unworthy of forgiveness and it is not by the works of our hands that we receive this measure of mercy; rather it is by the grace of the Creator. Our work does nothing to secure this most blessed gift; instead it loosens the chains that bind our spirits and allows us to move into a place where we can forgive _ourselves_. Atonement is an act of contrition that frees the heart and soul to receive God's mercy."


	35. Chapter 35

**Note:**_I do not own or have rights to Twilight or its characters!_

Chapter 35

**Reunion**

The summer of 1813 found us still in the small community of St John's Crossing. What had been an insignificant trading outpost with a small garrison and field hospital blossomed into a bustling military staging area for the war effort. Yes the fledgling nation was, once again, at war with her mother country . . . England. I felt in no way torn between my loyalty to the land of my youth and my current home country as I considered myself an American in every way but birth.

For a number of decades now, the Royal Navy had been sizing American sailors off American merchant ships and forcing them into service in the British fleet. The news papers from Boston, Philadelphia, and New York featured regular articles on the subject as well as raucous debates on how to deal with the thorny issue. To everyone's disappointment, even the great statesman Thomas Jefferson, of whom I was a fervent admirer, tried to no avail to remedy the solution. So last year, the matter finally came to blows . . . President Madison as well as the House and Senate declared war against Britain.

Spread before me on the kitchen table of our modest farmhouse was the latest issue of the Philadelphia newspaper. By latest, of course I meant that it was only two months old. I found the slow travel of news to the rural interior irritating. Ayala sat on her favorite bench near the hearth embroiled in her latest sewing project. I had just been reading aloud to her an elegantly written article on the abolishment of slavery; yet another festering issue that didn't seem anywhere near a conclusion. I was especially proud of this article as it was one my sister had written herself and submitted to the paper under a pseudonym.

"I am glad they did not change my words," she hummed in a satisfied tone. "My words are like my father's arrows; straight and true."

Indeed they were; Ayala had a knack for word craft. In fact she wrote prose far better than I did and with less education under her belt. "You must have truly impressed the editor."

"Shall I write another one, my brother?" she asked eagerly. I could only smile as I noticed the innocent enthusiasm that danced in her warm golden eyes. "We should send this one to Boston or perhaps to Richmond."

"You're article would likely be well received in Boston, child, but in Richmond I fear it would be a waste of good paper and ink." I commented as I turned the newspaper page. "Some narrow minded clod would end up using it to kindle a fire with. Besides, the collective conscious of the nation is focused on the war with Britain at the moment . . . until that matter is settled, the issue of slavery is as cold as yesterday's porridge."

The room fell back into a comfortable silence as I continued my reading and she worked on her sewing. When I finished the paper, I cut out Ayala's published article to put in my journal and then tossed the rest of the paper into the hearth. My sister had become quite the vocal activist over the past year; and not just on slavery, but on the issue of Indian affairs as well. The articles she wrote on behalf of the Native Peoples weren't nearly as well received, but several of them had been published none the less.

"Hello in the house," The familiar Irish brogue filled my ears even as his scent tickled my nose.

My sister was instantly on her feet; she was tense and a low growl rumbled deep in her chest. We had been fortunate thus far, having had only limited contact with others of our kind. I wasn't sure what made my sister more nervous; the presence of humans or the presence of other vampires.

"Relax," I soothed as I headed for the front entry hall. "It's just Iann."

"Iann," she muttered quizzically from behind me as she followed me to the door.

"Yes, you remember him don't you?" I slipped my wool cloak on and pulled up the hood; in spite of the warm summer weather, it was sunny out and I couldn't risk being seen. "_The Red Eyed One_ from our days in the wilderness . . . he brought you that lovely green dress that you loathed so much."

I heard her growl again and couldn't help laughing in response. "Wait here," I instructed when my mirth died away, "I'll go and see what he wants." I bent forward and kissed her forehead before turning towards the door.

"I am not human anymore," she began shyly. "May I meet him?"

She had a point, she was no longer a frail human girl, but I was still hesitant to have other vampires in our house. Another vampire could still hurt her, and I hadn't yet taught her to defend herself against others of our kind. I had considered teaching her to fight, but the thought of scuffling with my innocent sister, even in practice, was repugnant to me.

"Let me see what he wants first," I soothed her, "then we'll see." I paused as my hand brushed the door. "Do you remember our code word?"

"Yes," she replied obediently.

"If you hear me say that word, then you are to run away from here as fast as you can," I instructed her in a tone that was sterner than usual, then I added more gently, "Don't worry about me, I'll come and find you when everything is safe again."

"Yes, my brother."

I nodded my approval of her answer; I hoped she would obey me in this. Ayala had a habit of being strong willed, especially if she thought that I was in danger. Her loyalty to me was touching beyond words, but the actions that it elicited were foolhardy and I wished to break her of the practice.

With that, I left the house and headed into the forest.

It wasn't long before I found the place where Iann waited for me. He chose a clearing near the stream that ran through my property. At the sight of me, a broad smile lit his features like a lantern on a moonless night. I had to admit, I was happy to see him as well; I thought of him often since Ayala and I departed from our wilderness home.

"Carlisle!" he greeted me heartily as he offered me his hand in friendship. I accepted his gesture and quickly found myself drawn into a brotherly one-armed embrace. "By thunder, but it's good to see you again," he muttered as he patted my back fondly.

"It's good to see you as well Iann." I replied in return. "But if you don't mind my asking; what brings you so far east? I thought you preferred the wide open expanses of the wilderness."

"You haven't changed one bit, have you?" he chuckled. "That's the same question you asked me the second time we met . . . more or less." He shook his head in continued amusement. "And I'll answer you as I did then; can't a man visit a friend without arousing suspicion?"

It was my turn to laugh. "I'm sorry Iann," I finally answered. "Life over these past few years has made me a more suspicious man that I would like."

"So, I guess Ayala is still living with you." His observation was actually more of an inquiry. "I've spent a lot of time wondering about you two since your departure. You don't know just how glad I am to hear that things are working out well with you and your sister."

"Why thank you Iann." I was impressed by the level of sincerity in his words. I also detected another emotion buried deep in the tone of his voice that I couldn't quite put my finger on; I pushed the notion aside for the moment. "Will you be staying in my territory long? If so, I must warn you not to hunt in St John's Crossing or the surrounding area. The community here is small and tight knit; unexplained deaths and disappearances would cause a stir."

Iann shook his head in disgust, "You didn't notice." He sounded utterly dejected, "I thought you of all people would take note."

I was taken aback by his reaction so I took a moment to appraise him more closely. That's when it hit me like a brick bat to the face; his eyes were no longer the deep crimson that they once were . . . they were honey gold like mine and Ayala's. Iann was now following my lifestyle; I had made a lasting impact on his life after all and that knowledge humbled me deeply.

"Forgive me for not noticing Iann," I apologized. "And congratulations, I know it must have been a difficult adjustment for you."

"Not as bad as I thought it would be," he admitted with a shrug. "The longer I abided by your diet, the more I realized that I never really liked human blood in the first place. I know that seems strange, me being what I am and all, but it's true. I always dreaded hunting because I hated having to kill people just to nourish myself; I mean none of them ever did me any harm after all. Life is so much easier for me now, and I'm happier too."

I smiled broadly and nodded, "I'm pleased to hear of your success and your happiness. As I told you, our lives are a matter of choice and we can, with effort, rise above the beast that dwells within us."

There was a very long pause before Iann spoke again. "So, Carlisle," he began a bit hesitantly. I noticed him fidgeting with the hem on his coat sleeve as he attempted to gather his thoughts. "Do you think it would be possible for me to see Ayala . . . just from a distance, of course, if you feel its better that way? I've spent many long days thinking about her since the two of you left the wilderness. I would very much like to see how she's turning out, you know . . . growing up and all."

That was unexpected, I thought as I considered how best to tell him about Little Deer's change. The source of the previously unnamed emotion in Iann's voice dawned on me then; it was infatuation. Iann was smitten with my sister. "Uhm, well . . . Iann . . .uhm, well that is, I . . ."

"Is something wrong Carlisle?" Iann's expression darkened with concern.

My eyes cast upon a fallen tree and I gestured towards it, "Perhaps we should sit down." It occurred to me that, given his obvious interest in my sister, he might not take kindly to the things I had to tell him; sitting down might help keep the situation from spiraling out of hand.

Iann's concerned expression turned skeptical. "When was the last time you saw a vampire faint dead away from the shock of bad news? I don't need to sit, now tell me what the matter is with Ayala."

I sighed deeply as I ran one hand through my short blond hair, "Nothing is wrong with her, exactly." I hesitated as I looked up at Iann who stood glaring at me with his arms crossed as he waited for my explanation. "Little Deer isn't . . . well, she's not the same girl you remember. You see . . . she's . . ." My voice trailed off as I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and allowed the words to spill from my mouth, "She's one of our kind now . . . Ayala is a vampire."

"You turned her!" he accused angrily, his warm golden eyes becoming fiery topaz embers.

"No, it wasn't me," I insisted defensively. I still felt guilty for having failed to properly protect her from Henry in the first place and even guiltier still for not having the courage to do myself for her what Aro, thankfully, did in my absence. I hated to admit it, but he was absolutely correct in his prediction that I would one day thank him for his meddling . . . though I would never revile this fact to him, it would give my old friend far too much satisfaction.

I gestured towards the log again, "Please, it's rather a lengthy story."

"If you insist," he grumped as he took a seat on the log.

"We arrived in St. John's Crossing with the first frost of autumn . . ." I began my story as I sat down next to Iann. I told him of our early days together, and of our happiness. I told him about that awful bitterly cold morning when I found her huddled in the attic after Henry's unwelcomed visit, and of how, for the next three weeks, Ayala tagged along to the hospital with me.

"I told you that you should have killed the bastard," he growled defiantly. "His sort are always more trouble than they're worth."

"Yes, I remember that conversation," I sighed sadly. "And if you recall I replied that I don't handle my business that way . . . still, in hind sight, I fear I must admit that you were correct.

"Three weeks after his invasion of our home, he returned to rear his ugly head once more. On the way home from a night at the hospital, I left Little Deer with the horses while I hunted. In my absence Henry found her in the small clearing where I usually left my horse during such forays. By the time I arrived and stepped in to rescue her, I knew that five men were about to meet their endings at my hands.

"During the ensuing skirmish, my sister placed herself between me and the muzzle of Henry's pistol; in a foolish and misguided attempt to save my life, she took a pistol shot meant for me." I paused, closed my eyes, and swallowed hard as I pushed back the eternally painful memory. "Her wound was mortal; I could do nothing for her beyond making her comfortable during her final hours."

"But she didn't die, she became one of us instead," Iann interrupted insistently. "You said that it wasn't you who turned her . . . who was it then?"

"I'm getting to that." It was coming down to the difficult part concerning Aro's involvement and I wasn't looking forward to relating it to Iann. "That evening, as I was preparing tea for Little Deer, a knock came at our door. I knew by the scent that curled under the threshold just who was waiting on the other side; Aro had come to pay me a call."

Iann hissed at my revelation but otherwise remained silent.

"It seems that word of my association with Ayala reached his ears and he came to investigate the situation personally." I paused to gauge his reaction thus far; he did not look at all pleased with the course of events. "After a long discussion in the parlor, Aro agreed to grant my sister a peaceful and natural death and to return to administer Volturi justice a few days later, and then he insisted on meeting Ayala.

"I was hesitant at first, but eventually I acquiesced. After a brief and very tender encounter with her, Aro encouraged me to hunt while I still had time and he wished me the strength and grace required to endure the coming maelstrom of my grief . . . then he left."

"I don't know Aro that well nor do I wish to, but from the stories that I've heard concerning him . . . that doesn't sound like his style at all," Iann grumbled.

"Aro can be quite the enigma," I replied lightly. "But to be honest, even I found his behavior a little out of character. Still I was grateful for his generosity . . . or at least that's what I interpreted it as being at the time.

"After he left, I took his advice and stepped out for a quick hunt and in my absence . . ."

"In my brother's absence," Little Deer's light and lilting voice filled the clearing as she stepped from among the trees, "Thunderman returned to our home to visit me."

"Will you never learn to obey me?" I asked in a quickly passing flash of anger. "In any other coven, your insolence would be quickly and severely reprimanded."

"I do obey my brother," she insisted as a wide mischievous smile pulled the corners of her mouth up. "You are older and wiser than I am, and I will always show proper deference to you, but I am also a child of the Creator and a daughter of the People. As such, I am my own woman."

A surge of infectious joy rushed through me as my sister's gift came into play; she was excited to meet Iann. Instead of fighting the effects off, I allowed then to fill me as I watched my friend and my sister appraise one another. Though she was incapable of physically blushing, I saw that very reaction mirrored in her golden eyes. After a few moments she demurely cast her eyes towards the ground.

"By Saint Peter's beard, but you're the most beautiful creature I've ever laid eyes on," I heard Iann gasp beside me, "A vision to rival the halls of heaven itself."

"Red Hawk is far too generous with his praises," she answered shyly in her native tongue.

Iann tugged urgently at my sleeve, "What did she say? I never managed to learn any of the native languages."

"She says you're too generous with your praises," I replied honestly, "and it seems she's chosen to grace you with a Lakota name . . . Red Hawk."

Excitement illuminated Iann's face until it glowed brighter than a full moon and he seemed to suddenly stand a bit taller and straighter than he had before. I shook my head as a slow smile spread across my lips. Though I hated to admit it, I feared something serious was beginning to develop between Little Deer and Iann.

"What happened when Aro returned to visit," Iann asked her gently, "That is, if you don't mind telling the tale . . . I wouldn't want to force you to recount the events if the thought of them is too upsetting to you."

Little Deer smiled innocently as she edged her way a little closer to us, "It is not upsetting; Thunderman was very kind to me.

"He said that he could see no good reason for death to separate my brother and I. He knew that a great well of love existed between us and that Panther Eyes would be very hurt and lonely with my crossing into the Sky World. He offered to give me a gift; he would make me a Sky Being . . . a child of Thunderman, so that I could live forever with my brother.

"When I agreed, he bit my neck and I thought I would die from the pain of it. The last thing I remember before the pain swallowed me was Thunderman saying how proud he was to welcome me as a daughter."


	36. Chapter 36

_**Note: I do not own or have rights to Twilight or its characters!**_

Chapter 36

**Becoming a Good Shepherd**

Iann joined our little family and, to my great surprise, he seemed a natural fit. I had been a bit apprehensive at first, not because I disliked him or because of his budding attraction to Little Deer, but rather because I feared he might take exception to my firm position as leader. Early on in my life as a vampire, I realized that I was a natural alpha and, while I could play the subordinate role as I had when I lived with the Volturi, I wasn't at all comfortable in it. I feared that Iann, having lived as a lone male for many years, might not adjust well to suddenly being subject to my authority. With that in mind, I made a concerted effort to ease him into his new situation with as little stress as possible.

Fortunately, my authority had never been much of an issue with Little Deer. At times she could be strong willed and even disobedient, but in spite of this I knew that ultimately she loved and respected me. If I insisted strongly on a course of action, thought she might not agree and she would defiantly voice her opinion, she would defer to my authority and accept my decision. She gave me her complete trust and her unfaltering loyalty, but I knew that she would never surrender her intractable spirit to me or to anyone else.

In the weeks since Iann's arrival I found his addition to our family invaluable. Now, when I departed in the evening to attend to my duties at the hospital, I was secure in the knowledge that Little Deer wasn't alone. Iann was there to keep her company through the long hours of night, take her hunting if her thirst became too great, and defend her from others should the need arise. Up until he joined our family, I hadn't realized just how stressful leaving my sister all alone each evening was for me. Having another family member to rely upon was a great relief to me.

As I rode into the yard I noticed the front door open and Little Deer stepped lightly onto the porch. Her long dark hair was pulled back into a single thick plat and she wore a lively but simply pale green dress. Her bright smile was instantaneous as she rushed off the porch to greet me and attend to Cloud.

"Did my brother save many lives at the hospital last night?" she asked cheerfully as she took hold of Cloud's reins. This was her way of asking if I had a good shift, and I couldn't help but smile as I swung down from Cloud's back.

"A few, I suppose." It was rarely by my efforts alone that a patient lived or died though I tended to take every outcome personally. "How was your evening with Iann?"

A frown pulled down the corners of her mouth, "We went hunting a few hours ago. I was very thirsty but I wanted to await your return. Iann insisted that we should not wait, that it was not good for me."

"I agree," I replied as I shortened the stirrup leathers so that the irons wouldn't dump against Clouds side when Little Deer led him into the barn. "If you're thirsty, then let Iann take you hunting. There's no reason for you to await my return from the hospital."

She continued to frown and I knew the situation went deeper than a hunt. "Is everything well between you and Iann . . . you didn't have a fight did you?" In my mind, I left Iann in charge during my absence. I never made the position official in any way and I most certainly didn't give him any leeway to be heavy handed with my sister.

"No, we did not fight, but I was not pleased to be made to hunt against my wishes either," she grumped as she rubbed Cloud's favorite scratching spot between his ears.

By her continued expression of displeasure, I was beginning to get the impression that Little Deer and I needed to have serious discussion. "Finish tending to Cloud," I instructed her gently, "and then meet me in my study; we'll continue this discussion then."

"I do not wish to discuss this matter in my brother's dusty old study."

My right eyebrow shot up at her defiant comment. "Is that so," I replied dryly. "And I suppose my sister would prefer to continue haranguing me regarding the matter in the middle of the front yard."

"Your sister . . ." she paused, swallowed hard, and then continued, "Your sister would like to go for a run with her brother."

I sighed as I continued to watch her. As always, she was forceful in standing up for herself while maintaining an air of deep respect for my position as her brother and leader. I was certain that her ability to straddle the two positions so deftly stemmed from her upbringing among the natives. Unlike women of European decent who were thought their place in a world dominated by men from an early age, the women of Little Deer's tribe had more rights and a greater measure of power.

I nodded my approval of her request. "Finish tending Cloud," I whispered as I gave the geldings neck an affectionate pat. "I'll be waiting on the porch for you when you're done."

She finally approached me then and fell into my arms. I embraced her tightly, rubbing her back as I planted a soft kiss on the top of her head. "Go now;" I insisted as I pushed her gently from my arms, "The sooner you finish your chores the sooner we can go for our run."

I watched her disappear into the barn with the amiable grey gilding in tow. The horses became skittish if we moved at vampire speed when dealing with them. That being the case, I knew it would take her at least half an hour to finish with Cloud. I crossed the yard and leapt nimbly onto the porch; a half hour was more than enough time to consult Iann and get his side of the evening's events.

When I opened the door and stepped inside, I found my newest family member seated in the parlor reading a volume from my library on Newtonian Physics. Where I had a passion for medicine, Iann was showing a budding affinity for engineering. I smiled at the sight of him pouring over the text; Newton was one of my favorite modern scholars. When he looked up from his reading however, my smile was gone and an expression of indifference was in its place.

"I'm sure you overheard our conversation," I insisted casually.

"I did," he replied as he closed the book and laid it beside him on the sofa. With our inhumanly acute hearing utterly private conversations were difficult to come by in close quarters.

"Would you care to tell me what happened?"

"I was telling her the ledged of the Kelpie, the water horse, when I noticed how black her eyes were." He shifted uncomfortably on the sofa. "I suggested that we go hunting and she instantly refused. She said she wasn't thirsty, but I knew she was lying because her eyes were inky black."

He began fidgeting with the hem of his shirt sleeve and I knew he was nervous. In an effort to ease his distress, I sat down and attempted to take on a more casual air. On more than one occasion, Ayala had informed me that I could look quite severe and even menacing, when I stood glaring at a body. The experience was very intimidating, according to my sister, and that wasn't how I wished to come off to Iann at the moment.

"We didn't fight," he continued once I was settled. "But we did argue a bit. Eventually she agreed to go hunting with me; however she wasn't at all happy about it." He looked up at me then and I noted the deep confusion in his eyes. "I thought she enjoyed my company, Carlisle; she always seemed to anyway. Last night I felt as though she would like to be rid of me altogether." Though he didn't express his pain, I could easily read it in his expression.

"She does, indeed, enjoy your company Iann," I assured him. "I can tell that by watching the two of you when you're together. If my observations aren't enough to convince you, she's confided this fact to me." He looked somewhat relieved by my comments but doubt still lingered in his eyes. "Something beyond the matter of a reluctant hunt seems to be bothering Little Deer and I intend to get to the bottom of it." I stood then and turned towards the door. "Thank you for your candor, I greatly appreciate it."

"If you feel it would be better all parties concerned, I can be long gone by the time you and Ayala return from your run." His words were a sad whisper in my sensitive ears.

I stopped dead in my tracks but didn't turn to face him; I couldn't imagine suddenly losing my newest family member over an obvious misunderstanding. While I wasn't as closely bonded to Iann as I was to Ayala, I did genuinely like him. In time the bond between us would grow stronger and I was sure I would come to see him as a brother just as I saw Ayala as a sister.

"You are a cherished part of this family Iann, and I would find your absence highly distressing," I insisted as I turned around slowly. "Incidentally," I began hesitantly, "in case you haven't taken notice of the fact, and in spite of her behavior last night, Little Deer is quite taken with you. Your departure would be devastating for her as well."

Over the course of the days and weeks since his arrival, I'd been privileged to watch something quite beautiful begin to grow and blossom between Iann and Ayala. While it was too soon yet to say what would become of this budding relationship, to carelessly dash it to the ground now would be a travesty.

"I'll stay then," he nodded slightly. "But will you give me the answer to a question that's been burning a hole in my chest since the day I arrived."

"If I can," I replied.

"Just what sort of relationship exists between you and Ayala," he asked a bit uncomfortably. "I've heard her call you brother and you refer to her as your sister, but I'm very confused. I'm not blind; I see a definite bond of love between the two of you . . . are you mates then?"

"No; Little Deer and I are _not now, nor shall we ever be_ a mated pair." I insisted strongly. "I do indeed love her with every fiber of my being, but she is _my sister_; that is how I see her and I could never view her otherwise."

"Forgive me if I find that a bit odd," he huffed. "I've briefly been in covens before; what I see between you and Ayala is usually indicative of a mate bonding."

"Think logically for a moment Iann," I sighed as I turned once more for the door. "If Little Deer and I were truly mates and I caught the two of you exchanging doe eyed glances at each other, as I often do, I would have already ripped your head off and burned you to ashes." As my hand brushed the door knob I added, "Please be here when my sister and I return from our run. I feel that there will be much for us to discuss, as a family, in the wake of this."

**0o0o0o0o0o**

When Little Deer finished her chores in the barn, we began our run. I took us in a north westerly direction away from the farm as I had it in mind to take her to a little glen that I discovered during a hunt back when she was still human. The location was very scenic and there was a lovely little beaver pond at the heart of the meadow. It was my favorite tranquil retreat when I needed a place to think.

As we raced along, I took time to enjoy the sight of my sister running beside me. In spite of the fact that she was considerably shorter than me and my stride length was twice what hers was, she had no trouble keeping up with my pace. What she lacked in raw speed and power she more than made up for in grace and agility. She was very much like her namesake; a lithe and nimble little deer.

When we arrived at the meadow, I slowed to a halt. Little Deer's expression was one of pure delight; if her smile went any wider her lovely face would surely crack.

"What a beautiful place, why has my brother never brought me here before?" she asked in a reverent whisper as her eyes continued to take in her surroundings.

"You should see it on a moon lit night when the nocturnal orb's silver luminescence dances like a thousand shimmering butterfly wings over the pond's surface." I turned to her then and answered her question. "I don't know why I never brought you here before now, Little Deer. It was always my intention to do so, but never actually managed it."

We settled into a comfortable silence that lasted for a number of minuets. I leapt nimbly up to my favorite vantage point atop a rocky outcropping and sat down. Little Deer soon joined me and we watched the placid surface of the pond together.

"You have Iann thoroughly convinced that you detest him," I began softly. "I would hope that he isn't correct."

"I like Red Hawk very much," she insisted. "His words are always gently and kindness dances in his golden eyes." She smiled then and, I noticed what I had come to recognize as a blush in both her eyes and her voice. "He tells the most wonderful stories; little people who are no bigger than a groundhog and live under rainbows, the Green Man of the forest, angry water spirits that can take the shape of a horse." She shook her head in wonderment, "So many stories that they make my head spin."

"If you are so fond of him," I continued my gentle probing, "then why did you protest at the suggestion of going hunting with him last night?"

"I did not protest because I dislike hunting with Red Hawk," she answered softly. I watched as she picked up a dry leaf and began playing with it between her fingers. "I protested because I wanted to go hunting with Panther Eyes." She looked up from her fidgeting and the emotion I saw clouding her eyes was sadness. "I miss my brother's company. You do not hunt with me since Red Hawk arrived nor do you run with me or take me for long walks by the stream. We do not play music together in the afternoons and you have stopped teaching me book lessons." She went back to watching the leaf between her fingers. "I only see my brother when he first comes home from the hospital in the morning and before he leaves to go there in the evening. He spends the rest of his day locked away in his study with his books." She paused a moment and then added, "I misses her brother very much."

So that was the source of her distress; she was feeling rejected because I wasn't spending enough time with her. In my defense, however, I was keenly aware of the budding attraction that Iann and Ayala were showing towards each other and I didn't wish to interfere.

I sighed deeply, being the head of this family was much easier when it consisted of only my sister and I. Being cast in the dual roles of brother and leader at the same time was proving difficult, especially since I was still unclear of my feeling regarding Iann or his concerning me. He wasn't a creation of my own venom so I could never see him as a son. I did not yet see him as a brother although I didn't look at him as an outsider any longer either. There was no denying that he was an equal member of our family, I trusted him with Ayala's safety, and I liked him well enough . . . and yet at the same time, I felt ambivalent about him.

"I'm sorry Little Deer," I soothed gently. "I never intended to make you feel rejected. You are my beloved sister, and that shall never ever change. I promise to rectify things between us."

"You will hunt with me again?" she asked shyly.

"Of course I will, I delight in hunting with you," I answered her as I wrapped one arm around her shoulders. In response she leaned in against me. "But if you are truly thirsty and I'm not available, please don't put yourself into a state of distress by waiting for me . . . go hunting with Iann instead. We can always go for a walk or a run later if you simply wish to spend time with me. Besides," I added quietly, "Iann enjoys your company immensely, and it upsets him when you act as though you don't want him around."

"Yes my brother," she answered contritely.

I knew that I had not been at all harsh with her, in fact the opposite was true, but the tone of her response made me feel badly. I shook the feeling off and refocused my thoughts; if I intended to be the shepherd of this forlorn little flock I needed to start thinking and acting like one.

"Feeling better," I inquired.

When she nodded, I unwrapped my arm from her shoulders and stood up. "Then I think we should be heading home now." I offered her my hand and helped her to her feet. "I want the three of us to sit down for a formal council meeting . . . we have much to discuss."

**AN:** _So here we see Carlisle beging the process of developing the skills and mind set he's going to need later on as first Edward and then Esme and the rest join his family. Being the good shepherd is never an easy task; it requires putting others before yourself . . . but who in all the vampire world is more suited to this task than Carlisle._


	37. Chapter 37

Note: I do noy own or have rights to Twilight or its characters!

Well, its a long chapter and it was a long time in getting here. I couldn't think of a good title for this chapter so it doesn't have one. Maybe one will come to me later and I'll add it.

Enjoy!

Chapter 37

I checked myself in the mirror one last time before stepping out of my room. Voices drifted up to tickle my predatory hearing; Iann and Ayala were laughing and talking quietly in the parlor downstairs. My faint smile broadened as I listened to them carrying on. It had been my great privilege over the past few months, to watch their budding attraction grow. Ayala now happily spent as much time with Iann as she did with me. In time, I suspected, their relationship would become something more profound. While I doubted very seriously that either of them was aware of it yet, the symptoms were all too easy for me to read . . . Iann and Ayala were destined to become mates.

With the realization that this relationship between my sister and Iann would eventually become something irrevocably eternal, my feelings about Iann were becoming more concrete. As my ambivalence faded, I began to look upon him as more of a brother than I had before. A sense of contentment suffused me as I thought about my growing family. I had never before known this level of happiness, not even when I was still human.

I descended the stairs with the broad smile still plastered to my lips. In the parlor I found Ayala and Iann engaged in a game of chess. While Iann was clearly winning, my sister was making a respectable showing. As she busily studied the board to determine her next move, I took note of the fact the Iann was busily studying her. Young love, even among vampires, was fascinating to watch.

"Who's up for a run?" I asked brightly. "We've all recently hunted, so I doubt anyone is especially thirsty, but there is a beautiful full moon out tonight."

"I'll go," Iann offered as he stood to his feet. "I could use a good run to stretch the kinks out of my legs."

I turned expectantly to Ayala and waited for her answer. Though she was unaware of it, this excursion was for her benefit; I was about to begin phase two of her control building exercises.

She turned in her seat and looked out the window briefly. "The night is lovely," she sighed. "I too will go. Will my brother take us to the meadow with the beaver pond?"

I recalled telling her once about how enchanting the meadow was on moon lit nights. "Not tonight," I replied sadly, "Perhaps another time."

Tonight's run had a purpose, but I wouldn't revile that fact just yet . . . if I were to do so, Ayala would likely change her mind and stay home. Ever since her fateful encounter with the runaway slave, she had been quite adamant in her utter avoidance of humans. If her control was to be bolstered however, her practice of avoidance had to be dispensed with; she needed to be exposed to humans in a well supervised and methodical way.

**0o0o0o0o**

We raced along on eternally silent feet through the moon dappled forest; I was leading my little family eastward, towards the most remote farm in the St. John's area. I was acutely aware of the fact that I was putting the poor family that lived there in mortal danger. The elder gentleman and his wife lived on the small farmstead alone; I knew both of them to be righteous and amiable, as I had treated the husband for a fever some months earlier.

It troubled me greatly to put these two precious souls in harm's way, but Ayala needed training and I would rather risk two lives as opposed to hundreds. Besides, if I didn't have every confidence in my sister's ability to exercise control and in mine and Iann's ability to restrain her in the event of calamity, I would consider this exercise shear frivolity.

When the first faint trace of human scent tickled my nose I pulled to a stop; my sister and Iann skittered to a halt beside me. I tried to appear casual, as if I was unaware of the jeopardy we might be in with humans so close by. Unfortunately, this tactic didn't work.

"Perhaps we shouldn't terry long here, Carlisle," Iann suggested as he sniffed the night air. "There are human nearby."

"Thank you Iann, I am well aware of that fact," I replied casually. I turned my gaze then to Little Deer; an expression of horror illuminated her features and she was holding her breath.

I crossed the short distance between us and took her gently by the shoulders. "Breathe child," I cooed, "This excursion is quite deliberate . . . I intended it as part of your training. You handle the scent on the gory bandages that I bring home daily from hospital very well; for the most part you're unaffected by them now." I paused and offered her my best reassuring smile. "Take a breath, Little Deer . . . just one deep breath; you must become accustomed to fresh human scent."

She shook her head adamantly and would not take a breath. I sighed as I prepared to try another logical appeal. Unfortunately, before I could launch into it, Iann interrupted me.

"I think we should go Carlisle," his insistent in a tone that held more than a hint of irritation. "Obviously, Ayala isn't ready for this step yet . . . you shouldn't push her."

Iann was being protective of his future mate, I understood this and I was sympathetic to it. At the same time, I couldn't allow my authority to be called into question; my sister was ready for this challenge and I, as the leader of our family, made the decision to peruse this.

"She'll do just fine, Iann." I dismissed him before turning my attention to Little Deer. "Trust me child," I soothed warmly as I tipped her chin up so that I could look into her wide golden eyes, "Take a breath. If anything goes amiss, Iann and I will keep you and the humans in the farmstead from harm."

Little Deer continued to stare at me with fear written in her features. From the corner of my eye, I noticed that Iann had begun to pace nervously. He was muttering angrily to himself and I thought it best for my opinion of him not to try and decipher what he was saying. Instead of worrying about my brother's growing rage, I focused all my attention on my sister's insecurity.

"My dearest, never once have I asked anything of you that was beyond your ability to achieve." I cupped her face gently in the palm of my right hand and smiled affectionately at her as I spoke. "If I did not truly believe you were ready for this step, we would not be here. I know your fear; the tragic death of the slave weighs heavy upon you, but you must put that horror behind you. Learn from your mistakes, my child, but do not let them paralyze you." I sighed as I allowed the pad of my thumb to caress her stony cheek, "Your future is eternity itself, Little Deer . . . it is a wide open path spread before you. Now is the hour in which you must choose to set your foot upon that path and move into your future . . . and that first harrowing steps of your journey involve building your control." I said a silent prayer and then added, "Breathe . . . accept your future, embrace your journey . . . breathe."

It was the most impassioned plea I could muster; only the glistening dew drops of the tears that I felt but could never shed would have made my words more compelling. Silence filled the clearing as I held my own breath waiting for Ayala to make her choice. The wind stirred lightly in the trees, night bugs chirped there ageless songs, and the glowing silver orb that hung in the inky heavens continued to creep towards its morning repose . . . and still we waited.

Finally I broke the silence with an exhausted sigh; I had failed. The trauma of murdering an innocent left its everlasting mark on my sister's soul.

Very well; the words formed in my mind, but they never made the journey past my lips. There was a great ruckus in the trees and then suddenly the most magnificent snow white buck burst from the undergrowth. White Stag, in all his otherworldly glory, had come to pay a visit.

My sister let out a sound that seemed to embody both agony and ecstasy. She bolted from my hold, dashed towards White Stag, and then dropped to her knees before her celestial guardian. Iann's low growl drew my attention and I looked in his direction just in time to see him tense; if I didn't act to stop him, my brother would lunge for White Stag's throat. In less than the blinking of an eye, I had Iann wrapped in my iron embrace.

"Ayala is in danger, let me go," Iann growled loudly as he thrashed against my hold, "have you gone mad?"

"Be quiet and listen," I replied sternly; Iann went still in my arms. "The creature before you means Little Deer no harm . . . he is White Stag; her guardian spirit."

"Her what?" he muttered.

I sighed as I considered how best to explain thing. Given their growing relationship, it would be of the upmost importance for Iann to understand Little Deer's unusual connection to her guardian.

"I assume you have a solid foundation in the Holy Scripture?" When he nodded, I continued, "Remember the accounts from the Old Testament where Angels visited mortal men to reveal the will and the word of God?" Again Iann nodded. "White Stag can be likened unto those celestial beings; he visits Little Deer in times of need to offer guidance and impart wisdom."

"Then why does she weep?" Iann inquired gruffly.

Little Deer knelt before her guardian, her body was doubled over and her forehead touched the ground. True to Iann's observation, her entire body quaked with the force of her tearless sobs.

"The shear physicality of the divine presence is a very emotional thing," I whispered as I slowly loosened my grip. I remembered all too well my own encounter with the power of White Stag. While most of the details of the vision he shared with me continued to elude my mental grasp, I would never forget the feeling of unbridled cosmic power surging through every fiber of my body.

Before I could continue my scholarly dissertation on divine power made manifest, White Stag lifted his head towards the starry sky and let out a long bellowing trumpet. Searing pain accosted my sensitive predatory ears. I instantly released Iann and dropped to the ground clutching the sides of my head in agony.

When the sound died away and the ringing in my ears ceased, I sat up and surveyed the clearing. Little Deer was still on her knees sobbing and Iann lay coiled in a fetal ball less than an arm's length away from me. Since he was closer and he seemed to be in more distress that my sister, I went to Iann first.

"Come on now," I encouraged as I hauled him up to his knees. "It's over and done with; time to pull yourself together." He was trembling and when he looked up to meet my gaze I saw a mix of wonder and fear in his eyes. I instantly knew by his expression that his encounter with White Stag left a lasting impression on him; I didn't press him as I knew he would tell me about it in his own time.

"Little Deer needs us," I insisted gently.

Those four simple words were enough to snap him from his dumbfounded state and we rushed to Little Deer's side. She was still huddled on her knees with her forehead against the ground; her long mahogany tresses formed a silken cloak about her trembling shoulders and a shroud that covered her face from view.

"Ayala," Iann whispered as his hand came to rest in the space between Little Deer's shoulder blades. "Are you alright m'darlin?" The more emotionally overwrought Iann became, the thicker his Irish accent got.

For several long moments Little Deer didn't move and I was now quite concerned. Finally, she slowly lifted her head and gazed at the place where her guardian had once stood.

"I thought White Stag had abandoned me," she muttered absently, "He did not come to me after Thunderman made me a Sky Being . . . I thought I had angered him . . . I thought . . ."

Before she could say more, Iann snatched her into his embrace. "Hush your silly yammering, girl; you've done nothing to anger anyone." He planted a tender kiss in her hair before adding in an irritated grunt, "By Saint Patrick's staff, I swear; if that great beasty comes back and makes you cry again, I'll . . ."

"Iann, that's quite enough," I interrupted him and when he looked my way I shook my head disapprovingly. My brother fell into a reluctant silence and I turned my attention now to my sister. "What did White Stag show you?" I asked as I took her hand lovingly in mine.

She looked at me then, and her sobbing began anew.

"God in heaven, child," I whispered as I gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, "It can't be as bad as all that . . . won't you tell us about it?"

"He said," she stammered when she was calm enough to speak, "he said . . . the paths of our journeys must soon part . . ." she began sobbing again and my dead heart ached for her grief. "He showed me a vision, Iann and I were together in a cozy little lodge, but my brother was not there . . ." she broke off and let out a mournful wail that sent ghost chills up my spine. The power of her turbulent emotions slammed into me and it was all I could do to maintain control.

"Let's get her home," I insisted. It took nothing more from me than that; Iann scooped Little Deer into his massive arms and we set off towards the sanctuary of our little farm house.

**0o0o0o0o**

She sat by the fireplace in the parlor staring blankly into the crackling flames. Not a word had passed from her lips since Iann deposited her there in the small hours of the morning. The sun was well up now, and my concern was growing. The trauma of whatever news Ayala had received from her guardian had her in a near catatonic state.

The words of her brief revelation in the clearing had been the focus of my troubled thoughts: The paths of our journeys must soon part. I could not conceive any good or logical reason that Little Deer would no longer be a fixture in my life . . . none, save one; my destruction. If White Stag revealed my demise to her, there was little to wonder about with regards to her current level of distress.

"How long do you suppose she be like this?" Iann asked in a low whisper as he came into the parlor.

I shook my head as I set aside the book I was reading, "I have no idea . . . she's never been like this before." I glanced nervously at Little Deer before getting up from my seat; entranced as she was, she wouldn't miss me if I stepped out for a few moments. "Would you join me on the front porch?" I asked as I started for the door. Wordlessly he followed me.

As I stepped across the threshold I inhaled deeply, allowing the morning air to sooth my nerves. This wasn't a conversation that I really wanted to have, but I had no way of knowing how much time was yet allotted to me. I would rest easier if I was assured of the fact that my sister would be cared for.

"The message Little Deer received from her guardian has me very troubled." I confessed as I stared across the open field beyond the barn. I feared that if I looked Iann in the eyes as I spoke, I would lose my concentration.

"Would you really up and leave us?" he asked quietly. I could feel his piercing gaze at the back of my neck. "Ayala isn't the only one who would be upset by that, you have a place in my heart as well and I would miss you too."

"Thank you for that Iann, it is comforting to know," I admitted with a sigh. "I can think of only one reason that would explain Little Deer's revelation . . . my destruction." An uncomfortable silence settled between us.

"No wonder she's so overwrought," he growled, "If I ever get my hands on that beasty, I'll . . ."

"Iann, White Stag is an immortal being . . . did you not notice that he lacked both a scent and a heartbeat," I corrected him gently. "I suspect there is precious little you could do to harm him."

"**We **are immortal and **we** can be harmed," he reminded me with a sneer. "He upset my Ayala and made her cry . . . I don't take kindly to that."

"Indeed," I dismissed before attempting to return our conversation to the topic at hand. "In any event, if my destruction is eminent, then there are a few things that must be settled. Firstly, I am not a man who lacks wealth . . . while I do not brag about such matters; I do own a number of properties and have a modest fortune to my name. Later today I will pen the appropriate documents and send them off to my solicitor naming you and Little Deer as my sole heirs, thus insuring the two of you a legacy.

"Secondly, I have a personal favor to ask of you." I turned to face him then before continuing, "I would be eternal grateful if you would look after my sister. She has a naive nature and an innocent heart. God granted me the honor of being her keeper . . . the shepherd to look out for her and care for her . . . in my absence, would you be willing to take up that mantel, Iann?"

I watched my brother's gaze drop to the floor boards and he began to fidget. My stony heart sank to my shoes; I was afraid of this . . . he was about to say no.

"Carlisle," he began hesitantly as he scuffed the toe of his boot against the head of a protruding nail, "There something I've been meaning to talk to you about . . . well, for a while now. I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm smitten with Ayala and I think she's **_the one _**. . . and . . . well, you're her brother and . . . I, uhm . . . I'd like your permission to formally court her." Only when he finished speaking did he look up to meet my gaze.

My expression remained blank for a moment and then ever so slowly, like the sun rising over the horizon, the corners of my mouth turned up into a warm smile. "I was wondering when we would get around to having this conversation. If the attraction between you and Little Deer were any more obvious, blind beggars all the way back in Boston could see it."

Iann chuckled and I watched as the pent-up tension drained from his body. "Then you approve?"

"Whole heartedly," I insisted warmly as I gave his shoulder a hearty pat. "You have my approval and my blessing."

"Thank you," he replied in a relieved sigh. "And even if our courtship doesn't bear fruit . . . I give you my word; I will look after Ayala until either she, or I, meets our ending."


	38. Chapter 38

**Note:**I do not own or have rights to Twilight or its characters!

_Yes, it's very short ... but it's also quite profound. I was going to make it longer; in fact, I'm still working on the part that was going to be the other half of this post. After I wrote White Stag's revelation, however, I couldn't bring myself to say more. After reading it, you have to take a little time and digest it a bit._

_Don't look for anything new in the next few days, I have the second draft of a Vertebrate Anatomy reaserch paper to work on._

_Enjoy!_

**Chapter 38**

**A Vision of Armageddon**

Days had passed since White Stag's visit in the clearing and my sister still sat dumbstruck in the parlor; she would not speak or move. This sort of thing was, to my knowledge, unheard of among or kind; we could not be hurt physically by the thing of the natural world nor did we suffer with vapors and faint with bad news, yet it was obvious that we could be thrown into profound shocked. I could scarcely imagine what manor of horrific revelation that could have caused my sensitive sister to fall victim as she had. It would almost seem that she had witnessed the end of the world itself and the awful magnitude of the vision had been more that she could bear.

Since depositing her in front of the hearth, Iann had not left her side except to speak with me privately on the porch. As he sat with her, he spoke quietly to her and held her in his arms. He spent hours regaling her stories from Celtic folklore, singing ballads to her … anything to draw her back from the black pit of her despair. For my part, I read to her from her favorite book; the one we spent that first long cold winter reading together . . . Defoe's _Robinson Caruso_. In spite of mine and Iann's ministrations, however, she would not come about.

Her malady was in its seventh day now; she lay on the sofa, her open eyes gazing blankly into nothingness. Iann finally reached the limit of his endurance; with his thirst gnawing at him to the point of madness, he stepped out to hunt.

I sat in my favorite chair by the hearth reading Shakespeare's Midsummer's Night Dream aloud to her; I finished Defoe the evening before and wasn't in the mood to start it over again.

"Either I mistake your shape and making quite," I began the after turning the page "Or else you are that shrewd and knavish sprite, Call'd Robin Goodfellow: are not . . ."

"Panther Eyes," her words were the faintest whisper as she called my name, but I heard them and my heart leapt with joy.

I put down my book and moved to sit beside her on the sofa. "I am here child," I insisted as I settled next to her.

Slowly her head turned and her gaze fixed on me. By her expression and the slight quiver in her lower lip I could tell another emotional monsoon was about to break. She sat up rather quickly and through her arms around me; hugging me fiercely. I returned her embrace and her affection.

"There, there now," I soothed as I stroked her hair, "I'm here . . . and Iann will be back soon, he's gone to hunt." I continued to hold her and whisper softly to her until she calmed down and released her iron grip.

"Little Deer," I spoke her name as I lifted her chin with my finger tips. There were things I wanted to say to her that I might not have another opportunity to say if my demise came suddenly. "I know you've been through quite a shock . . . whatever your guardian reveled to you must have been very traumatic."

She nodded ever so slightly but didn't answer.

"I want to assure you that I love you, Little Deer, very much . . . and I will always love you," I insisted warmly. "I count myself fortunate in that I have seen nearly two centuries of existence. While I often speak disparagingly about this half life, if truth be known . . . I doubt I would be half as much use to human kind as a physician if I were yet one of them.

"And I am happy Little Deer . . . since you and Iann entered into my life, I have known nothing but immeasurable joy and deep satisfaction. I thought love and happiness were lost to me when I awoke to this life, but you and Iann have given me all that and more. I am a blessed man indeed." I paused and took a deep breath; I needed a moment to refocus my thoughts. "Remember me fondly, my dear child, and do not let sorrow and grief consume you . . . know that I have lived my life well and that I have gone on to my reward contented and without regrets."

"My brother is dying," acute anxiety suffused her voice and her expression was one of utter shock; I was caught off guard by this.

"Well, yes . . . I suppose . . . isn't that what White Stag showed you," what other eventuality could have thrown her into such an emotional state. "The Paths of or journeys will soon part," I repeated her exact words.

"No," she squeaked as she shook her head.

To say that I felt embarrassment would have been the understatement of the century. Although I meant every word of my confession to her, knowing that my words likely compounded her distress made me suddenly quite ill. I wanted to apologize to her, but I feared she might misconstrue such an effort so I let the matter drop.

"Then what did her reveal to you that had you so distressed," I asked in an attempt to redirect the conversation.

She leaned in against me then, seeking the physical comfort of being close to me. In response I wrapped my arms around her and kissed the crown of her head tenderly; just what had she seen?

"White Stag says that you must heed the Creator's call upon your life and serve the men of the east as a healer," She whispered into the folds of my linen shirt. "You will not be able to resist the Creator's call and remain in the wilderness much longer. It is the strong pull of your destiny that will take my brother away from me and cause the paths of our Journeys to part. . ." she began to sob tearlessly into my shirt and I pulled her closer in an attempt to sooth her. "Because you must leave me . . . it is the unavoidable path of your destiny . . . White Stag has found a new Keeper to entrust my care to . . . Iann will look after me and from him I will know the boundless love of a husband." She looked up at me from her place against my chest, "That is the only happy news my guardian had for me," then she turned away again.

"He showed me other things too," she muttered. "Things which I do not understand and these things frightens me and make my heart burst with grief.

"He told me that a great leader would arise among the men of the east and that he would make the eastern People leave their land . . . I saw them marching in the snow with the bitter wind tugging at their tattered clothes; many will die.

"I saw a great iron beast, built by the men of the east. The men feed it logs of wood and ugly black rocks and it has fire in its belly to consume them with. Thick smoke bellows from its huge nostril and it makes an awful sound when it is angry. The men build pathways of iron and wood for the beast to run upon and it goes very fast . . . faster than any horse; it runs without growing tired.

"The iron beast will carry the men of the east into the land of the People and when they see that our land is good and they will want it for themselves. I saw the men of the east herding the People, like so many buffalo, off a high cliff and their mangled bodies were stacked as high as the tops of the pine trees." She stopped and I heard her take a ragged breath. "White Stage says the men of the east will destroy the People if something isn't done. They will hound the People like the hungry wolf hounds the deer in winter . . . the Creator says I have a role to play; I am destined to aid the People but White Stag did not say how."

She fell silent then as she nestled in against my shirt. I laid my cheek on the top of her head and began humming softly. I was correct; she had seen Armageddon . . . the end of the world . . . the end of _her world_. No wonder she spent the past seven days in a near comatose state; a massive burden had been placed upon her and from the sound of it, I would not be there to help her bear it.

"Hush now," I stopped humming long enough to whisper, "The future isn't written in stone child; we'll find a way through this . . . together."


	39. Chapter 39

**Note: I do not own or have rights to Twilight or its characters!**

**A little Christmas Eve gift for those of you who thought I'd forgotten about this one! **

**Merry Christmas ya'll and a very Happy New Year!**

**Chapter 39:**

**Blissful Union**

The coming of spring brought with it all the wonders of rebirth: flowers returned to once snow-covered meadows, the trees adorned themselves in bright and refreshing cloaks of green . . . and the powerful force of young love manifested itself in its most primal and pure expression.

The night of the spring equinox was still a bit cool as Iann, Ayala and I raced along through the silent forest. The silvery orb of the full moon seemed so close to the earth that one might reach up and snatch it from the inky sky. We would be leaving this part of Missouri in the next few days; I had already acquired a new posting at a hospital in western Virginia. Before leaving however, there was one last bit of business that had to be concluded; Iann and Ayala were to be wed.

In fact, we delayed our journey because she insisted that the ceremony must take place on the night of the equinox, and that the only fitting place was the clearing near the beaver pond. This was also the location where, after her recovery from White Stag's awful vision, Iann had finally proposed to her.

I still remember fondly, the gleam in my sister's eyes as they returned from their hunt that happy evening. She bounded through the door and practically bowled me over with her exuberant embrace. I wasn't surprised by her news when she finally composed herself enough to relate it to me; I knew that the day would come sooner or later. I was absolutely thrilled for her and I made no secret of that fact. There is nothing on all of God's good earth that can compare to the joy of finding heaven's intended match . . . one's eternal soul mate.

As we continued through the forest, on the way to the clearing, joy and deep pride filled me to the bursting point. As I scooped Little Deer's broken body from the cold earth on that fateful night so long ago and carried her away to safety I could scarcely imagine that she would one day become an immortal fixture in my life. How much more incomprehensible to me at that time was the eventuality that she would someday find true and lasting love. The sight of her and Iann together kindled new hope within me that, one day, I too might find my eternal lover . . . a wife to chase away the last remnants of loneliness that still clung to the deepest corners of my heart.

I had once dismissed such grand imaginings as absurd; I accepted my loneliness as a form of eternal penitence for the sin of what I had become. Watching Iann and Little Deer's courtship however, caused a thousand tiny cracks to form in the gloomy shell that incased the romantic part of my nature. Those cracks became deep fissures as, one day while reading in my study, a snippet of White Stag's vision came back to me. It was as sudden as a lightning flash and all I glimpsed was her face; heart shaped and framed in a glorious cascade of caramel tresses. It was the expression in her eyes, however, that took my breath away; boundless and unconditional love . . . an ocean's worth of it; enough to touch every unloved and forlorn soul the world over. This was my mate, I was sure of it, though when I would come to know her remained a mystery; yet simply knowing that she was out there, somewhere, ignited the flame of hope within me.

As we neared the clearing, a familiar scent tickled my nose. I glance first to one side and then the other; a joyous smile lit Little Deer's face as the scent filled her nose, a deep scowl and an angry growl was Iann's response.

As we broke from the trees and into the clearing, we found that the space had been transformed. Delicate paper luminaries were strung between the trees, casting the clearing in a soft golden glow that danced like fire flies on the still waters of the pond. An arbor of young willow bows had been erected in the center of the clearing and adorned with cut wildflowers and white silk ribbon. All around the arbor lay a thick carpet of red rose petals; the scent of which filled the night air with sweetness. He stood under the arbor in the center of it all with Jane at his side . . . Aro awaited us with a broad smile plastered to his lips.

"Thunderman," Little Deer squealed with delight as she bolted from my side and raced towards him. I saw Jane tense, but an almost imperceptible gesture from Aro set her once more at ease. When he opened his arms wide, Little Deer fell into them.

"When I sent the letter, I did not think you would come," she muttered into the front of his elegant gold brocade frock coat.

A contented chuckle rumbled from deep within Aro's chest. I had many occasions, when I lived in Italy, to hear my friend's mirth; rarely, if ever, was it genuine. On this night and in this place, however, he was truly happy.

"How could I not come," he replied warmly as he released her from his embrace, "My Dear One has found her mate and is to be married . . . had I stayed away, I would not have been able to forgive myself." Then with a grand gesture of his hand he asked, "What do you think, My Pet . . . I had very little to work with and it is impossibly hard to improve on the splendor of God's creation, but this is my feeble attempt."

"It is beautiful," she replied as her eyes traveled over the decorated clearing. "Thunderman does me a great honor."

"Well, it isn't everyday that I get invited to a wedding," Aro answered humbly. Humility was another trait rarely observed in the leader of the Volturi, but he seemed to exhibit it freely for Little Deer.

"And with good reason," Iann suddenly growl from beside me; the sound caused me to jump. "Who wants the grim reaper present to overshadow the happiest day of their lives . . . You and your little harpy aren't welcome here Aro; so leave . . . now!"

"I was personally invited by the bride," Aro returned casually.

"And the groom is now personally un-inviting you," Iann barked back, "Now get!"

The look of confusion and hurt on Little Deer's face stung my long silent heart; it was time for me to intervene. "Gentlemen, please," I politely interrupted Aro and Iann's glaring contest, "The wedding day always belongs to the bride. It should be her perfect day, and all those around her ought to do everything possible to make it so." I turned then to Iann, "if it is the desire of Ayala's heart to have Aro present to share in this moment, then by all means indulge her . . . her happiness now will be an endless source of eternal reward for you in the centuries to come."

I gave Iann a discrete wink as I mentioned the last part and hoped he would catch my meaning. In spite of my bachelorhood, I had been a physician long enough to gain an understanding of the principal of reciprocity as it applied to the marital duties. Patients often confess as openly to their doctors as they do to their ministers; sometimes even more so. It would seem that the secret to a blissful union required the willingness to compromise coupled with the negotiating finesse of an elder statesman. But above all else, I had discovered that if a husband wished to enjoy a pleasurable marriage, it behooved him to keep his fair lady happy.

There was a long silence before Iann finally sighed. "Very well, if it makes Ayala happy," he acquiesced somewhat reluctantly.

The look on my sister's face went from dejection to elation in the blinking of an eye. "Would Thunderman be kind enough to do a favor for one of his children," she asked in as formal a tone as she could muster at the moment.

"Certainly dear one," Aro cooed, "what would you ask of me?"

"Since my brother's human father was a Shaman, he will conduct the ceremony," she insisted with a nod. "Red Pony is not here . . . but I am a child of Thunderman now, would you . . . I mean, do you mind . . ."

"I would be most honored to stand up as your father, Little Deer," he whispered as he bent forward and kissed her forehead. It never ceased to amaze me how my sister's presence seemed to bring out the largely unseen and almost alien tender side of Aro; I knew it must have something to do with her gift.

With those matters settled the bride and groom disappeared into the thick undergrowth to change clothes. Iann emerged first, wearing his best pair of breaches and a brand new deer skin shirt that Little Deer had made especially for this occasion. It was adorned with red glass beads sewn into the pattern of stylized hawks and hawk feathers dangled among the fringe work. For my part, I wore with great pride the ceremonial shirt that my sister had bestowed upon me at the outset of our journey eastward.

"I feel a bit overdressed for this occasion," Aro observed lightly as Iann came to stand beside me.

"Then by all means, leave," Iann grumped sarcastically, "After all, why should the peacock roost among the pigeons." Though he said it in such a way so as not to be overtly insulting, there was no mistaking his meaning.

"Because, one of your so-called pigeons is actually a swan, and one of my dear ones to boot," Aro's tone remained light and jovial, but his expression held a healthy dose of warning. "I will not disappoint Little Deer by departing abruptly. Have a care Iann O'Conner; this young one is precious to me. If you misuse or abuse her . . . if you hurt her in any way, you will soon find yourself on the wrong side of Aro and The Volturi."

Before Iann could reply, there was a rustling in the trees and Little Deer stepped into the clearing. She was a vision; bathed at once by both the cold silver light of the full moon and the warm golden glow of the luminaries. The two lights played off the surface of her skin and the new white doe skin dress she was wearing giving her the appearance of being adorned in wealthy splendor. Her hair was pulled into a single thick mahogany braid wrapped with Ermine fur and festooned with Eagle feathers. When she began walking towards us I noticed a soft tinkling sound coming from the dozens of tiny silver bells she had painstakingly sewed to the hem of her dress.

"Mio Dio, che una sposa bellissima," I heard Aro whisper as we watched her approach.

"Watch your mouth," Iann growled. I realized that my brother didn't understand Italian; if he did, he wouldn't have taken offense.

"It was a compliment Iann," I supplied for his benefit. "He said that she is a beautiful bride."

"Oh . . . well you just remember that she's my _che una_ . . . whatever you said," Iann recovered rather ungracefully. "She's my mate . . . understand!"

"Completely," Aro answered as he and I shared a knowing look. He was forever bound to Sulpicia; no other woman would ever hold his interest. As for me, the caramel haired woman with the heart shaped face and the ocean of love in her eyes awaited me somewhere in my future.


	40. Chapter 40

**Note: I do not own or have rights to Twilight or its characters!**

**Chapter 40**

**Stigma**

_**Early summer 1815**_

We arrived in the small community of Birch Bend in one of the western most counties of Virginia. The town was nestled along the banks of the Tug River, which separated Virginia from eastern Kentucky. The community's primary sources of revenue stemmed from timber and coal. This was a much larger town than St. John's Crossing and therefore more populated; a fact that made my sister more than a little apprehensive. While I trusted her control around humans implicitly, she did not.

In preparation for our move, I engaged the services of a local solicitor and, through him, purchased a modest farmstead north of town. The young lawyer wrote to me twice in an attempt to convince me that it would be more convenient to live in town. He insisted that several fine homes, suitable for a man of my station, could be had for a reasonable sum. I final put his pleadings to rest when I wrote to him and explained that my sister and brother-in-law lived with me and that my sister had a debilitating nervous condition. In my correspondence I informed him that: _'living in a bustling urban environment with its noise and constant commotion was most distressing for her'_ and that '_her condition responded best to the soothing and gentle rhythms of life in the countryside'. _

We reached our new home late on a dreary Wednesday afternoon; the dark clouds on the distant horizon coupled with the scent of rain in the air prognosticated the coming storm. Cloud and Willow did faithful service pulling our wagon load of meager belongings from St. John's. Flint proved himself to be a reliable and surefooted saddle horse. As we neared the end of our journey however, I noticed the great strain that pulling the heavy load was having on the old grey gilding. I decided that it might be time to retire the old boy to live out the remainder of his day in idle leisure . . . his mistress would surly spoil him until God saw fit to call him home.

When we arrived at the house, the young lawyer, Mr. Jacobson, awaited us, taking his ease on the front porch. The impending storm cut short most of the pleasantries between Jacobson and myself. He presented me with a few papers to sign after which I paid him handsomely and took possession of the deed. Before mounting his horse, he eyed my sister suspiciously; Iann was helping her down from the wagon. For a moment Little Deer locked gazes with Mr. Jacobson and I saw the young man shudder.

"Is she dangerous?" he whispered as he leaned forward in his saddle. "There was a woman in Birch Bend, some years ago, with a melancholy so deep it drove her to murder her husband and four children . . . with a pickax."

"My sister is harmless, I assure you," I insisted in a quiet yet stern tone. "I manage her condition quite strictly; her diet and medication schedules are highly regimented and she is never left unattended. That notwithstanding, her temperament tends to be more withdrawn; she really is a very shy natured soul and I fear she would be more likely to inflict harm upon herself before she would hurt others."

"Are you certain of this, Dr. Cullen?" he asked as his gaze once again turned to my sister.

"Mr. Jacobson, I am a very dutiful and loving brother, but I am also a very competent physician," I replied quietly. "If I had any doubt as to my capability to manage Ayala's condition or any concerns that she might become violent and harm those around her . . . I would regretfully commit her to a sanatorium post haste."

With a nod, he accepted my assurance and then bid me good day before nudging his horse into a slow trot. I watched him disappear around a bend in the road before turning to help unload the wagon.

**0o0o0o**

The little hospital in Birch Bend was really more of a clinic. In any other community it would have shut its doors with the setting of the sun; any late night emergencies would require rousting the town doctor from his bed. Due to the coal mines and the three shift schedule they operated on, a night doctor on duty was a necessity. Dr. Ludlow, my employer, had been looking for an associate to fill the night position for six months . . . ever since my predecessor got caught cheating at cards one afternoon and received a pistol ball between the eyes for the offence. I assured the good doctor in my letters to him that I was a dedicated family man who did not drink, smoke, or gamble.

I pulled Flint to a halt in front of the little clinic and watched as the front door opened and a man in his late thirties stepped onto the narrow porch.

"You must be Dr. Cullen," he observed as he came and took hold of Flint's reins so I could dismount. "Good to finally meet you, sir."

"It's good to meet you as well Dr. Ludlow," I replied once I was off Flint's back. "I apologize for not coming by sooner, but we arrived on Wednesday and there was a bit of settling in to do."

"Your timing is perfect Doctor, don't trouble yourself with apologizing," he dismissed with a wave. "I have a family too you know . . . my wife, Abigail, is expecting our third child any day now." He paused and then added more soberly, "How is your sister adjusting?"

"There's no change in her condition," I sighed. "But then again, we've only just arrived. I'm hoping the change of venue will have a positive effect on her."

"Losing one child has a devastating impact on the feminine psychology . . . but to lose twins," he concurred with a grim shake of his head. "I can't imagine how my Abby would react if something like that happened to our brood." The he clamped his hand lightly on my shoulder as he took a deep breath, "Have you heard the local legend yet."

"Legend," I scowled in confusions as I repeated the word.

"Come inside, this matter should not be discussed out in the open."

He led me into the modest clinic, it looked and smelled just as any other hospital would; blood, illness and laudanum over-washed with the caustic scent of strong lye soap. In his small office he bid me to sit as he settled himself behind his desk. I was immediately impressed with the wealth of books that lined the shelves of his office; Dr. Ludlow took his profession seriously.

"Her name was Hester Wilson," he began as he lit the oil lamp on his desk. "I had just arrived as a young doctor in Birch Bend; I was to apprentice myself to Dr. Blackthorn as he was near his time to retire.

"At any rate, Hester, her husband Matthias, and their four children moved to the community two years before me. He found work in the coal mines while his wife tended the home and took in the odd bit of sewing here and there. The family kept to themselves, which I fear was the beginning of their misery."

"I see no harm in minding one's own affairs," I commented dryly.

"You and I are of one mind on that, Dr. Cullen," he replied soberly. "I tend to be a rather private man myself . . . but in this neck of the woods, that can be a dangerous thing if you're not very careful." He paused for a moment and then continued his story, "The first time I had occasion to meet Hester was after church one Sunday morning. As her husband helped her into the buggy, she was seized by a bout of fits. I rushed to her side and rendered what aid I could; she recovered of course, but the damage had been done.

"From then on, rumors swirled through the town like wildfire; Hester Wilson was possessed by demons, Hester was a witch and in league with the devil. Of course I did my best to squash such ridiculous tales insisting that her affliction was purely medical in nature, but I fear that I failed miserably."

"What happened?"

"Our Minister, Rev. Wilcox . . . a man I suggest you treat with great care, Doctor, as he can be a formidable enemy should you cross him. Anyhow, the Reverend convinced poor Matthias that his wife was indeed possessed and that the only way to save her was to drive the demons out of her . . . and the only way to do that was to beat them out of her."

I let out an uncontrollable groan as my mind took me back in time. While most vampires lost all memory of their human lives, much of mine remained vivid. This was in part due to the fact that I kept a journal of them, lest I should ever forget. My own father had suggested such treatment for the chastisement and exorcism of the possessed . . . usually women and children, most of whom suffered from fits or some form of mental defect for which my father's prescribed treatment was paramount to abuse.

"You're right to groan," Dr. Ludlow observed. "For you and I both know that the beatings did no good. Her husbands sudden change in demeanor towards her drove a wedge of ill will between them and sent Hester into a deep melancholy. I tried to convince Matthias to abandon Rev. Wilcox's tortures course of treatment and allow me to try one rooted in science, but he refused.

"Months passed until one blustery October afternoon, Hester came wandering into town. Her eyes were bleary and unfocused and she seemed to be in some sort of a daze. The front of her dress and apron were saturated with blood and the gore was splattered on her face and arms as well. In her right hand she held the handle of a bloody pickax which she drug in the dirt behind her. Some of the men went up to the cabin and found her awful handy work."

"What became of her?" I inquired apprehensively, though I suspected that I knew the answer.

"Rev. Wilcox ordered her locked in the church cellar until her fate could be decided. Her trial lasted three days; a trial I might add that was presided over by the minister and not a magistrate," the doctors voice openly showed his disgust with the course of events. "In the end she was found guilty of both murder and witchcraft. They took her into the town square and hung her . . . when her body stopped twitching at the end of the rope; they set her alight and cheered as the flames consumed her. Eventually they severed her head from what remained of her body and buried her face down with her head between her knees in an unmarked grave."

Phantom bile rose up in my throat and I sneered in disgust. Were I still human I would have vomited in Dr. Ludlow's office. My father had presided over many such barbaric public executions; the scene always sickened me and in return he always accused me of weakness.

"Be mindful of the Rev. Wilcox, Doctor . . . and I would advise keeping your sister well clear of him," he insisted. "There is a stigma associated with melancholy and nervous conditions in this community; the fewer who know of your sister's malady the better. And Doctor," he paused and fixed me with his sad brown eyes, "Though I can see that you are a competent and compassionate physician, exactly the sort of man I'm looking for in this posting . . . I would suggest that you begin inquires into situations elsewhere . . . anywhere far away from Birch Bend."

"Am I being dismissed then?" While I had resigned more than my fair share of jobs, I had never been dismissed before.

"Certainly not," he insisted as he rose from his seat. "You may stay as long as you like . . . until you find a new situation, if need be. But take my advice into strong consideration Dr. Cullen . . . do not terry long in this place; only sorrow will come of it."

**0o0o0o**

With the first pale light of dawn, Dr. Ludlow arrived to relieve me. He looked well rested and a faint smile curled his lips. The night had been a quiet one with no new patients and the one he was currently looking after showed some improvement overnight. After biding the doctor a good morning I took to my horse and headed for home. I would warn Iann and Ayala to be careful and hunt as far away from town as possible. I intended to take Dr. Ludlow's advice and leave as soon as circumstances would allow.

"You there," A voice thundered from behind me and I turned in my saddle. "Yes you there, on the horse . . . hold up a moment."

I suppressed a groan as I instantly recognized the man approaching me. Though I'd never met him before, his attire gave him away immediately . . . the Reverend Wilcox managed to ambush me.

"You're the new doctor, aren't you?" he asked as he came nearer.

"Indeed sir, I am," I took off my hat and inclined my head slightly. "Dr. Carlisle Cullen at your service."

"You're not at my service," the old man huffed. "I'll not mince words with you sir, I don't like doctors . . . they believe themselves better than Almighty God. They think that they are smarter than Him that wrought Creation and all its wonders from the void." Before I could answer he poked his thin bony finger at me, "How about you Dr. Cullen, do you think you're smarter than God?"

I waited a moment before answering, just to make sure the crusty old reverend would allow me a chance to speak. "I do not," I insisted quietly. "I am not so haughty as to believe that my meager skills are of any consequence; those who recover under my care do so for no other reason than this . . . my hands are His humble instruments."

He stared at me long and hard with his piercing blue eyes before he finally replied. "You're a man to be watched Cullen," he insisted, "Hell's taint clings to you like a tick clings to a dog. You have a silver tongue; you know what to say, and how to say it." He paused and then added, "And then there in the matter of your sister."

I managed to repress an angry growl, but only just barely. "My sister is a virtuous woman, sir. You have no cause to slander her good name."

"Virtuous indeed," he answered as a wicked smile turned up his lips. "Jacobson told me all about her. I think I'll pay a call on Saturday afternoon and see just what sort of woman your sister really is . . . and of course, I'll see you all at worship service on Sunday."

Without another word he turned on his heels and walked away leaving me in the midst of an ocean of troubles. After a few moments, I spurred Flint into a canter as I made my way out of town. There would be much to discuss when I arrived home.

_**AN: Birch Bend is a fictional location thought the region of the Tug River is very real. This area is now West Virginia but in 1815 it was still a part of Virginia proper and did not break away until the Civil War.**_


	41. Chapter 41

**Note: I do not own or have rights to Twilight or its characters!**

_**OK gang, I'm having surgery on my left thumb on Monday to remove a painful growth on the bone. This might be the last posting you get from me for about a week or so (give or take depending on how much post-op pain I'm in and how druged out of my *** I am). If I can manage to squeeze out something for one of the other stories before Monday, I will. Wish me luck.**_

_**Enjoy! **_

**Chapter 41:**

**All the World's a Stage:**

Saturday morning brought with it clouds and a light summer drizzle. Since the Reverend Wilcox was due to stop by that afternoon, I insisted that we all hunt early. After ensuring that there were no snooping humans nearby, we set out. When we returned two hours later, we were well stated.

Over the course of the week, I devised a plan that would not only convince the Reverend of Little Deer's harmless and fragile nature, but would also get her and Iann excused from Sunday service. I, of course, would attend church to show a face for the family.

Once back at the house, I had my sister change into her dressing gown and then crawl into bed. Her natural vampire pallor would add to her look of general illness. I dampened her hair with a small amount of castor oil mixed with some ash from the fireplace; this would give her mahogany tresses an unkempt and stringy appearance. The last thing I did was to use some of the fine French theater makeup that Aro had given me before I departed Italy to accentuate the sunken look of her eyes and to add hollows to her cheeks. By the time I finished, she looked absolutely pathetic.

"Now, when the Reverend arrives I want you to act very sick." I instructed her. She faked a cough that sounded so realistic that it almost had me convinced; I smiled warmly at her. "No child not that sort of sickness," I chuckled. "More like . . . more like how you were when Aro came to visit you on your death bed; extremely weak, lethargic . . . on the cusp of mortality where even the simplest of gestures is a monumental effort.

" Also I will likely offer you some broth while he's here and something that will look to him like medicine; you won't find any of it very appealing, but please play along."

"Yes, Panther Eyes," she replied. When I glared at her, she corrected herself. "I mean . . . yes, my brother."

"Please be careful and mind how you address us." I insisted softly. "For heaven's sake, use our English names. If you slip up and call us out in Lakota in front of this viperous man we're all done for."

"Carlisle," Iann's voice boomed from behind me as he entered the bedroom. "Did you have to go and make her look so . . . so piteous? A corps would be a cheerier sight right now than my Ayala."

"She has to look convincing," I insisted sternly. "This Rev. Wilcox is a dangerous man. If we don't want to risk exposure, then we must convince him of Ayala illness and frail condition."

Before leaving her room I set out a few odds and end from my bag on top of the dresser; medicine bottles, some bandages, a bowl and lancets, and my stethoscope. I then pulled the heavy curtains tightly shut and lit a single oil lamp by the bed, trimming the wick so that the flame burned low. The scene was set.

It was nearly noon when I finally sat down in the parlor with a book. It wasn't long before my predatory ears detected the sound of horses and a wagon coming up the road to the house. In another fifteen minutes or so, our guests would arrive.

"Make yourselves ready," I muttered knowing full well that my family up stairs would easily hear me. "And Ayala, you can do this . . . just try to relax, it will all be over soon."

When the knock came at the front door, I got up slowly and answered it. While I wasn't surprised to find the Reverend on my door step the presence of Mr. Jacobson startled me slightly.

"Gentlemen, please come in," I intoned softly. As they walked past me and took off their hats I added, "I must insist that you keep any commotion to a minimum, Ayala is quite ill."

"Ill," Mr. Jacobson sounded surprised, "She looked fine on Wednesday."

"Looks can be deceiving," I led my guests into the parlor. "The strain of our journey here from St. Louis has taxed her health to the extreme . . . I am very much worried about her."

"But we will be able to see her," Rev. Wilcox inquired sternly.

"Yes, of course Reverend," I replied pleasantly, "In fact, I'm sure my sister will find a visit from a clergyman very comforting."

Before leading them upstairs, I insisted on stopping off in the kitchen where I dipped up a bowl of warm chicken broth and broke off a heal of fresh bread. Our systems did not digest human food, but we could consume small portions of it when necessary to cover the nature of our identity. When we entered the dimly lit room, Iann was seated on the edge of the bed holding Ayala's hand.

"They're here," he murmured to his mate, but only I understood him; to the Reverend and Mr. Jacobson it would seem to be an incomprehensible mutter.

"How is she," I asked in a grave tone.

"There's no change," Iann replied with just the right amount of quiver in his voice.

"How is this possible," Mr. Jacobson asked, his shock at my sister's state was clear. "She had a look of mild infirmity about her when last I saw her, but . . . the poor woman appears ready for the undertaker."

"Mind what you say, sir," Iann warned softly. "She may be sick, but we maintain a vigilant hope for her recovery." Then he turned to glare at the young lawyer, "Do not cast blight upon that hope with your grim words; Death and life are in the power of the tongue."

"Proverbs 18 verse 21 . . . well spoken young man," the Rev Wilcox nodded happily, "But you did not finish the quote. It goes on to say; and they that love it shall eat the fruit thereof."

A faint growl, only loud enough for Iann to hear, rumbled from deep in my throat. I had warned him repeatedly not to engage the Reverend in a scripture battle. He cast me an apologetic glance before returning his attention to Ayala.

"You must forgive my brother-in-law," I insisted as I handed Iann the bowl of broth and heal of bread. "Even I am forbidden to utter a grim word in Ayala's presence." Then I addressed Iann directly, "See if you can coax her to take some nourishment; it is time for her medicine."

Iann nodded and began cooing at Ayala to eat. For her part she was doing well, appearing absolutely pathetic and offering just the right amount of resistance to Iann's efforts. After a few moments, I sat down on the side of the bed with her medicine.

"Come now child," I soothed. "I have something for you." When I went to press the cup to her lips she turned her head away; a perfect performance.

"What exactly is wrong with your sister, Doctor?" the Reverend asked.

"Allow me to administer this and then we can go down to the parlor and discuss the matter." I answered him seriously before tuning my focus back to my sister. "Please Ayala . . . it is bitter, I know, but it will make you feel better." I pressed the medicine cup once more to her lips and this time she accepted the liquid. I gave her a slight smile and an imperceptible nod of approval; she was playing her role superbly.

I left Iann to continue ministering to Ayala while the Reverend and Mr. Jacobson accompanied me to the parlor. When I offered them tea, they declined.

"I'm afraid I wasn't very forthcoming with Mr. Jacobson," I sighed as I settled into my favorite chair. "I informed him of my sister's nervous condition; however I did not specify its cause or explain its nature."

"Then perhaps you should rectify that situation, Doctor," The Reverend insisted bluntly.

"Iann and Ayala have been married for three years. My sister suffered with a terrible illness as a child and we were told that it would leave her barren, however eighteen months ago she became pregnant . . . with twins." I paused briefly for effect before continuing, "The pregnancy was difficult; which was the reason she and her husband came to live with me. She began to have bouts of bleeding and I feared she would miscarry, so I put her to bed and made her stay there. In spite of my best efforts however, she delivered prematurely . . . it was a serious event; she bled quite profusely and I very nearly lost her. The twins were still-born."

"You have my condolences, Doctor." Mr. Jacobson whispered, "I did not realize the tragedy that was the cause of your sister's distress."

"Of course, Mr. Jacobson . . . how could you know," I dismissed his gently.

"Women lose children all the time, Dr. Cullen," Rev. Wilcox quipped. "It is a circumstance of their nature . . . an aspect of the curse wrought upon them by Eve and her despicable acts. It has been my experience that, with God's grace, females recover and move on . . . they do not end up in the sort of state that your sister is now in."

I shifted uncomfortably in my chair, the reverend's views on women were not new to me; my own father had espoused such callous opinions. He had preached many a fiery sermon on the more sin prone nature of the weaker sex and he used those views to justify the subjugation of women by a male dominated society. I did not hold to these views; my own study of scripture left me with an entirely different perspective . . . Adam deserved an equal portion of blame for the fall of man as he made a conscious choice to take the apple from Eve.

"Her current state is partly my fault," I confessed. "When I received word of my new situation at Dr. Ludlow's clinic, it was my intention to come ahead and send for my sister and Brother-in-law at a later date. I wanted to give her battered body ample time to heal. However, Iann insisted that he would be unable to deal with her illness in my absence. The journey here took a considerable toll on her still fragile health."

"That explains her physical ailments . . . what about this nervous condition you wrote to young Jacobson about," the Reverend continued his interrogation.

This would be the tricky part and I would have to choose my word very carefully. "It is the same condition seen in many new mothers at the loss of a child; only with my Ayala, it is more pronounced. She weeps often, lamenting the children and thinking of what they might be like now, had they lived. Sometime she claims to hear them crying and she will franticly search the house in vain for the phantom sound. One night Iann and I awoke to find her missing from bed; she was in the barn searching the hayloft for her infants. It is at these times that she becomes most agitated and I must sedate her . . . for her own safety of course."

"Yes of course, Doctor," Jacobson's eyes showed a hint of moisture as he agreed with me. I could tell I had his sympathy . . . at least for the moment. The Reverend on the other hand seemed completely unmoved.

"No amount of sedation will drive away Satan's foul whispering imps," the Reverend grumped. "I fear that if you wish to save your sister, Dr. Cullen, you will have to resort to more aggressive therapies. Ailments of the flesh begin in the spirit, Doctor, even Hippocrates believed so."

It took a concerted effort to maintain my placid expression. During my time in Italy, it had been my distinct honor to read the writings of Hippocrates in their original Greek. Aro had a number of very valuable copies in his vast library. The good Reverend might have a profound scholarly knowledge of the Holy Word, but his grasp of the ancient master was sorely lacking.

"Forgive me Reverend, as I mean no disrespect, but I am afraid you are mistaken," I corrected him politely. "Hippocrates believes that all illnesses had their basis in nature, most notably he believed they were caused by an imbalance in one or more of the four humors. He expressly rejected the widely held belief that illness had anything to do with superstition or God . . . or the Devil either, for that matter."

The Reverend Wilcox shot me a searing glare; if looks could kill, I would have instantly been reduced to a pile of silver ashes. After a moment, her leapt from his seat.

"You have brought damnation upon yourself and upon your house, Doctor," he bellowed indignantly. "You have ears with which to hear, yet you refuse to do so . . . it is written that if a man is confronted with his sins and offered Godly counsel by his brethren regarding those offenses, but he refuses to accept it; then let him be cast out and ostracized."

The Reverend turned on his heals then and stomped towards the door with Mr. Jacobson in tow. While I should have left things as they were my tongue got the better of me.

"It is also written," I called after my flustered guest, "That a man should seek the gift of discernment from the Holy Spirit and that he should . . . _'beware of the false prophet'."_

When the Reverend turned to face me, the skin of his face was as red as a newborn's eyes. For a long moment he simply stood glaring at me as he trembled with rage. When he was calmer he pointed his bony finger at me and hissed, "You are a man to be watched." Then he whirled around and trooped out my front door.


	42. Chapter 42

**Note: I do not own or have rights to Twilight or its characters!**

_**Hi gang, I'm back. The surgery went well and I can type with nine fingers now. Poor Thumbkin is still in a hard plastic splint and I'm going to lose the nail at some point, but things are looking up. The cause of all my pain and the lesion the showed up on x-ray was a Glomus Tumor . . . very rare, very very painful, but NOT CANCER! YEA! ;)~ . . . saddly, they can come back :( but Blue isn't entertaining that thought right now.**_

_**Anyhow, here's a little chapter to celebrate . . . hope you enjoy it!**_

**Chapter 42**

**The Snare of the Fowler**

With our guests gone and darkness approaching, I stood in the parlor staring into the cold empty hearth. The events of the afternoon were a whirlwind in my mind. Things initially preceded flawlessly as the Reverend stepped across my threshold. Ayala and Iann gave a performance fit for the stage of the Royal Shakespeare Company; I could not have asked for better. But then disaster struck when my emotions got the better of me; I couldn't manage to bridle my own tongue. I wasn't sure which statement was more damning; my correction concerning the medical philosophy of Hippocrates, or the fact that I implied that the good Reverend was a false prophet. In either case it was clear that due to my lack of control, my family and I were now in a fine stew.

"Carlisle," her warm rich voice filled my ears causing an involuntary smile to curl my lips. When I turned around, I found my sister standing in the doorway of the parlor. Her hair was damp from where she had washed the oil and ash from it and she had changed from her night gown into a soft cotton dress. By her expression I could tell she was worried; I needed to set her at ease.

"You and Iann gave an outstanding performance," I told her warmly as I crossed the room to stand before her. I expected her to smile brightly and then leap into my arms, but instead my praise caused her to frown. I found her reaction quite troubling.

"I heard him yell," she whispered. "I do not think he believed us . . . I do not like this man, my brother. He is dangerous and evil."

"I agree," Iann insisted as he entered the parlor on eternally silent feet. "The good Reverend is more trouble than he's worth. I have the upmost respect for you as our leader Carlisle, and I trust your judgment implicitly; however, I feel we should leave Birch Bend before something regrettable happens."

"I'm not the sort of leader who disregards the opinions of those who follow me," I sighed heavily. "You both make valid points and I whole heartedly agree. Give me time to . . ."

"Time is in short supply," Iann grumbled. "We should leave . . . now . . . before the Reverend and his followers force our hand."

I looked intently into Iann's golden eyes; concern and fear danced in their depths. We were in considerable peril the longer we remained in this place, but to suddenly vanish was out of the question. Our exodus would need careful planning.

"While I would ordinarily agree with you," I began soberly as I moved to light one the oil lamps in the parlor. "To suddenly dash off would likely prove unwise. Take a deep breath and focus you hearing beyond the confines of the house."

I finished adjusting the wick and replacing the globe before looking up at Iann; his surprise was evident. When I left the parlor and proceeded to the kitchen, Iann and Ayala followed at my heels like a pair of hounds. "How many did you count," I muttered just to break the silence.

"At least a dozen men," he replied quietly. "They've set up a perimeter in the woods around the house."

"It would seem that the Reverend has decided that I am indeed _a man to be watched_," I observed sardonically as I stoked the fire in the kitchen hearth. Little Deer quickly caught on to what I was up to and set about gathering some potatoes and chopping a couple of onion; it was near dinner time and the aroma of cooking was expected from a human habitation.

"If we're being watched, then that's all the more reason to flee." Iann sounded overtly panicked.

After setting the pot over the fire for my sister, I turned back to my brother; I needed to sooth his anxiety. "We will leave this cursed town Iann, I assure you of that," I insisted, "But we must allow the Reverend's suspicions about us to dissipate some first. Soon he and his men will grow weary of watching our home. We will fade from the forefront of their minds and that is when we shall depart, and _never_ look back."

**0o0o0o**

I walked the short distance from Dr. Ludlow's small clinic to Birch Bend's only church. The sky was still overcast as intermittent rain had fallen all night and continued through the morning. A small crowd mingled outside the church; many of the congregation members acknowledged me with a nod while others turned their gaze away as I passed. As we trooped on mass into the quaint little church, I found a seat in the back corner. I wasn't at all adverse or uncomfortable with being in God's house, however, I was more than a little apprehensive about being in a church presided over by the Reverend Wilcox.

As service began I found myself instantly ensnared by the Reverend's searing gaze; his eyes never seemed to stray from me. When he stepped into the pulpit to begin his sermon, it was as if no other member of the congregation existed. I found the experience highly unsettling.

"Ah, I see we have a new comer in our midst; the good Dr. Cullen is with us on this dreary Sunday morning," he acknowledged me in a tone that I could only describe as one of wicked contentment. "I assume then that your brother-in –law is at home attending to your stricken sister and that is the reason for their absence from the God's house on the Sabbath."

"Someone must stay with her Reverend," I replied politely.

"Indeed," he purred kindly, but the expression that lit his eyes was nothing short of contemptuous. "I will add your sister's name to my daily prayer list Doctor, and beseech Heaven on her behalf; if our Lord can raise Lazars from the grave, surely he can heal your sister of her illness."

Without another word on the topic of my family, he launched immediately into his latest fire and brimstone sermon; as before, his eyes did not leave me. In spite of my continued discomfort at being the subject of the Reverend's scrutiny, I did not flinch. Instead I pretended that I didn't notice his gaze and focused all my attention on gleaning whatever divine wisdom I could form the service. A little more than half an hour into the sermon, the church doors burst open and a breathless man dressed in the dust covered clothes of a miner stumbled up the isle towards the pulpit.

"He's dead, do ya hear . . . dead," the poor man stuttered as he collapsed to the wooden floor. "Hiram . . . poor Hiram, he was attacked and his body torn limb from limb."

I left my place in the corner and pushed my way through the crowd. As I knelt beside the miner, I could tell that whatever he had witnessed had him in a state of shock.

"Back up," I insisted sharply as I began to assess the man's condition, "Give the poor fellow some air."

"Where is Hiram?" the Reverend asked sternly even as I attempted to calm my patient.

"Down by the . . . keelboat dock." That was all that the frightened miner managed before he broke down completely.

While the men of the congregation headed off to find the body of the poor Hiram, I took my charge over to the clinic. The wind stirred suddenly bringing a familiar pungent scent to my nose; an unknown vampire had recently passed through the area. Silently I cursed as I wondered if this stranger might be responsible for Hiram's death. After leaving the miner in the care of my colleague, I started off to find the mob and the body.

By the time I reached the keelboat dock, the remains had been gathered and laid out on the muddy bank. Both the marks and the scent were unmistakable . . . a stranger was hunting in Birch Bend. This poor man had been his prey and the body had been carelessly discarded.

"He appears to have been completely drained of blood," the Reverend observed as he cast his gaze my way. "What do you make of that Doctor?"

"My best guess is that it's the work of an animal . . . most likely a bear." I replied as I scrutinized the remains. "You men should take great care when hunting it down, as the beast now has a taste for human flesh."

A murmur spread through the crowd only to be silenced by the Reverend's dark chuckle. "A bear, you say," he smirked. "And I suppose this bear must have had wings, because I do not see any bear tracks. I'm no Indian tracker Dr. Cullen, but even I . . ."

"Where was the body found," I asked interrupting the rest of his remarks.

"Everywhere," he replied as he gestured with his hand, "Scattered all about like a child's discarded toys."

"Bears often play with what they kill," I began in my teaching tone, "especially if they do not intend to consume it. The pattern is consistent with a bear mauling." Then I turned to the assembled crowd. "You have my professional opinion and it is sound; you may chose to believe me or you may come up with you own theory."

I had said my piece and so I turned to make my way towards the livery where Flint awaited me. I was stopped dead in my tracks by the boom of the Reverend's voice.

"There is another possibility," the Reverend call after me. "One that this community has seen before . . . we all remember with horrid clarity the acts committed by Hester Wilson. Tell me Dr. Cullen, where is your sister?"

"At home in her sick bed," I growled and then in a more controlled tone I added, "The men you have watching my home ought to be able to attest to that fact."

"It is easy enough for those serving Satan's cause to elude even the most vigilant eyes," the Reverend retorted. "This is not the work of a bear Doctor; it is the handy work of evil . . . you brought your tainted sister into our midst and this is the result."

"That is quite enough, sir," I replied in a deceptively quiet voice. "You have no cause to slander my sister. She is the hapless victim of a profound tragedy and you wish to portray her as a demon possessed hag . . . have you no shame?"

"I am a good Christian man in the service of Our Lord," he grumped in response to me, "I do His work and I have no reason to be ashamed."

"Be mindful, Reverend, that the work you do is truly _His_," I answered him bluntly. It required every scrap of my control to remain calm. The Rev. Wilcox preached the same intolerant brand of Christianity as my father had; it was a loathsome and hipocritical philosophy I had long ago abandoned. The God whom I had come to know through devout study and to serve diligently through my work as a healer of men was loving and merciful. Christ embodyed utter compassion for the human condition and to truly call onself a Christian . . . liken unto Christ . . . ment following His shining example. "It is by God's hand alone that the wheat will be winnowed from the chaff and the sheep separated from the goats. Only He knows the true nature of men's hearts; only He sees the good or the evil that lurks therein . . . _Judge not, that ye may not be judged. For with what judgment ye judge, ye shall be judged: and with what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again."_

As the chilling words from Matthew's gospel faded from my lips I turned and marched towards the livery. Behind me I could hear the crowed murmuring; a divide of opinions was clearly evident among them. At one point I heard the Reverend calling after me, but I ignored him and continued on; I did not have the patients to hear more of his venomous words on this good Sabbath morning.


	43. Chapter 43

**Note: I do not own or have rights to Twilight or its characters!**

_**Well yet another smester has begun and , of course, that means I have tons of work to fill my plate (and my brain) to overflowing. Lets see, this time it's Animal Physiology, Microbiology, and Stats (yeah, more yucky math). Anyway, I know all my hard work will be worth it in the end.**_

_**Enjoy!**_

**Chapter 43**

**What So Ever You Do**

' _. . . For I was an hungred, and ye gave me meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink: I was a stranger, and ye took me in: Naked, and ye clothed me: I was sick, and ye visited me: I was in prison, and ye came unto me. Then shall the righteous answer him, saying, Lord, when saw we thee a hungred, and fed __thee__? or thirsty, and gave __thee__ drink? When saw we thee a stranger, and took __thee__ in? or naked, and clothed __thee__? Or when saw we thee sick, or in prison, and came unto thee? And the King shall answer and say unto them, Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done __it__ unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done __it__ unto me. . . .'_

As the words from the twenty-fifth chapter of Matthew continued to play through the corridors of my mind, I closed my tattered Bible and laid it on my desk. I didn't need to read the words again in order to know them; the entirety of the Holy Book was eternally etched in my memory. To know the truth with one's mind however, was a wholly different matter that to know it with one's heart; for this very reason I keep the worn Bible ever near and consulted its pages often.

To say that my family was in mortal danger would be an understatement. The suspicious minded Reverend and his overly superstitious congregation posed a clear and present danger to our existence. Were we in any other location and under this perilous circumstances I would not have hesitated to take proper action; we would have fled immediately. Yet some incomprehensible force seemed to be overriding my better judgment to keep me here. Every time I encountered the Reverend Wilcox, I was immediately reminded of my father; even the sound of their voices was near identical.

I closed my eyes and allowed my mind to drift deeper into my fading human memories. How many Hester Wilson's were there on my father's bloody list of victims; scores no doubt. How many floggings, hangings, and burnings had I stood idle by and observed because I was the dutiful son of a respected minister. I knew that the poor unfortunate souls accused by my father and persecuted unto death for witchcraft, or being vampires, or consorting with the devil were in fact innocent, but I could do nothing to stop it.

". . ._ , Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done __it__ unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done __it__ unto me." _The line from Matthew tolled again through the corridors of my mind. As is so often the case with the Holy Word, the verse was a sharp sword that cut both ways . . . when we neglect or abuse or kill "_one of the least of these"_ we have done in unto Him by proxy.

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. My eyes drifted to the single oil lamp on my desk; the flickering flame danced brightly behind the globe. "You are the light and salt," I whispered to myself as I continued to watch the flame. I muttered those same words to myself on the day I first swore Hypocrites Oath. I made a promise on that fateful day that, as I took up the mantle of Doctor, I would strive to be a light in this darkened world. As I atoned for the sins of my kind by saving human lives, I would be a bright spot of kindness and compassion to them as well.

It would be a simple matter for me to take my family and flee this cursed place; we had the luxury of beginning anew anywhere we pleased. The residence of Birch Bend were not so fortunate; if no one delivered them from the tyranny of Reverend Wilcox they would continue to suffer under his hand until death saw fit to give them relief. How many more Hester's would he hang and put to the torch in the town square? The very thought of such an atrocity forced me to suppress an angry growl that rumbled deep in my chest.

My course was plainly evident; I had a purpose in bring brought to this place. Then my mind shifted focus again as the sound of Iann and Ayala drifted to my ears; she was frightened and he was comforting her. I could not effectively deal with the Reverend Wilcox while those I cared about more than existence itself remained in mortal peril. Only one apparent solution to my dilemma presented itself; administering this bitter pill to my precious sister would likely prove the most difficult task in our relationship to date. As I rose from my desk and put out the lamp, I was already loathing myself for the pain I was about to cause her.

"_No good can come of this decision Carlisle_," my inner man chided. _"Take you family and flee."_

"Would you have me leave these people in the Reverend's clutches," I replied as I crossed the room at human speed.

"_Freedom is a commodity which must be secured through the blood and sweat of those who **wish** to be free," _my inner man shot back hotly. _"You cannot purchase it for them Carlisle."_

"I can try," I retorted as I reached the door.

"_The Reverend Wilcox is not your father,"_ the chilling words made me stop dead in my tracks, _"You are not accountable for his crimes. What could you have done to stop him, you were only a boy; had you defied him he would have condemned you just as easily as he did countless others . . . the only thing he truly valued was the twisted mission he felt called to."_

"I was a grown man of twenty three years on the night I lead my ill-fated raid," I replied soberly. "I could have . . . no, _I should have_ refused him; good son or not. I did not believe in his cause nor did I hold with his intolerant brand of Christian faith. I knew full well that his victims were innocent of their crimes. Their blood stains my hands; this is my opportunity to make amends."

"_Hypocrite, how quickly we forget,"_ my inner man hissed.

My vision swirled and tumbled before me just as it had the day my inner man forced me to relived my leap from the White Cliffs of Dover. When the tumbling finally settled, I was standing in the parlor of our home in St John's Crossing; before me sat my utterly demoralized sister.

"_Guilt is an injury as deep as any wound to living flesh," _my inner man repeated his word from that day, but then the wording of his admonishment changed somewhat_. "It must heal from within before it can heal on the surface. Forgiveness, Carlisle, must start, not with words of pardon or acts of contrition, but as a spark of renewed light within **your own heart**."_

Then I heard my own words as I spoke soothingly to Little Deer_, "__Whatsoever thou shalt bind on earth shall be bound in heaven: and whatsoever thou shalt loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven." _The look of utter dismay in her eyes was heart wrenching.

"_What does that mean?"_ she asked innocently.

As a vampire with an unfowable memory, I could recall this conversation with crystal clarity. In spite of knowing exactly what I said next to her that day, my inner man seemed to skip most of it, taking me instead to the climactic moment.

"_Whatsoever thou shalt bind, Little Deer remains bound until such time as thou shalt loosed it,"_ I told her as I squeezed her shoulder gently. _"Forgiveness is s gift freely offered and therefore it must freely be received, but in order to accept the forgiveness of others, you must first . . . forgive yourself. Unfortunately, the latter is not always an easy task and it often requires much effort to be realized."_

"_Physician, heal thyself_," my inner man chided as my vision returned to normal and I once again found myself standing with my hand on the knob of my office door._ "Remove first the beam from thine own eye before removing the splinter from thy neighbor's eye."_

I groaned in frustration, but did not offer my inner man any rebuke. On some level, I knew his words to be true yet I couldn't escape the sense of duty I felt. In spite of knowing the truth, that I was blameless for the inequities acts committed by my father, I still felt compelled to free these people from the clutches of the Reverend Wilcox. Instead of arguing the matter further I left my office and made my way down stairs to the parlor.

I found Iann and Ayala standing before the hearth wrapped in each other's arms; Iann whispered soft comfort to his mate. Ever since I informed them about the incident with Hiram my sister had been quite distressed. As I reconsidered thing, it might be wiser in the future to keep such matters strictly between Iann and myself. As I entered the room I cleared my throat, but only Iann turned to look at me; his expression was one of pleading and helplessness.

"I think a council is in order," I whispered as I made my way to my favorite chair.

"Come on darlin'," Iann encouraged as he led Little Deer towards the couch. "I'm sure Carlisle has this whole matter figured out by now." He cast me a hopeful glance as he settled beside his mate.

I took a deep breath and tried to still my tumultuous thoughts; if I was to have any hope of presenting my case, I needed absolute focus. Unfortunately, just as I was opening my mouth to speak, Little Deer's eyes locked with mine and I was undone. I didn't wish to hurt her, though I knew that the things I was about to suggest would do just that. I was about to horribly shatter two of the foundation promises I'd made when we first formed our little family; that I would never leave her and that we would be together for always. Even if our separation was only a temporary measure, Little Deer would likely view it in a more cataclysmic context.

The ghostly yet bitter taste of bile rose up in the back of my throat as regret caused my inhuman stomach to churn. In order to quell my unsettled emotions, I looked away as soon as I could manage it. It took me several moments before I could bridle my emotions again.

"When are we leaving," Iann's rugged voice broke the still of the room. I was glad for his question; it made beginning this dialogue much easier.

"By the end of the week the night sky will be moonless," I began my sober reply, "The cloak of darkness should be enough to conceal you and Little Deer from the watching humans as you make your escape."

"Where will my brother take us," Little Deer asked as she fixed me with her searing golden stair. Her question was phrased innocently, but I knew by the look in her eyes that she hadn't missed the fact that I did not mention myself in the exodus. She was gently baiting me.

"I would suggest going north," I answered ambiguously; purposefully avoiding the direct nature of my sister's question. "The Great Lakes region still boasts vast tracks of sparsely populated land and harbors abundant game."

"My brother is wise to lead us in this direction; it is said among the People that the Land of the Lakes is good," her gaze was still fixed firmly on me as she spoke. "Will you still be able to heed the Creator's call on your life as a healer of men in such a wild place?"

She is not going to make this easy, I mused as I continued to watch her expression; the unavoidable collision was fast approaching and I fervently wished I could stop it. In an effort to rally my nerve I looked to Iann for some sign of support. Unfortunately he seemed completely oblivious to the direction that my comments were leading.

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly; I could forestall this no longer. "I will not be leaving with you," the words sounded cold and heavy as they fell from my lips; I hardly recognized my own voice as I said them. "I must attend to the matter of Reverend Wilcox before I can depart," I confessed, "I cannot, in good conscious, leave the residents of Birch Bend to suffer under his tyranny."

"Then we will stay and help Panther Eyes deal with the Reverend," she informed me with a satisfied nod. I greatly admired Little Deer's intractable spirit, it was the bedrock of her personality and the wellspring of her selfless courage, but today I sorely wished my sister had a more malleable and obedient nature.

"No you will not," I replied sternly. In response to this she crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes as she continued to glare at me; without uttering a single word she was, in effect, issuing a challenge to my authority.

"Now see here young lady . . ." I began, but Little Deer cut me off.

"_**No**_, you will see," she grumped, "I am a child of Mother Earth and Father Sky and I am a child of the People . . . I am the daughter of a Lakota War Chief and the sister to Panther Eyes, a mighty Healer. I do not run before my enemies like the frighten rabbit runs from the coyote. I am no coward."

"I was not suggesting anything of the sort," I whispered gently. I should have realized that the notion of running away from a perceived battle would be an affront to her honor. "In fact, you are the single most courageous person I believe I have ever met . . . and it is your great courage that I am counting most heavily on right now."

Her arms remained crossed in defiance, but a questioning expression took over her features. She was by no means convinced as yet, but she seemed willing to hear me out.

"I cannot and will not allow the Reverend Wilcox to continue misleading the inhabitants of Birch Bend and tormenting the innocent and the ill," I insisted rationally. "But neither can I justify putting my family in jeopardy for the sake removing this hateful man's taint.

"I have seen the destruction that men the likes of the Reverend can inflict and my conscious will not abide simply walking away . . . I must act. However, in order to do so and do so effectively it is imperative that I have the unfailing assurance that those whom I love and care for are safe. So long as you and Iann remain here you will be in terrible danger and knowing that fact will serve as a constant distraction to me.

"Therefore, when the moon wanes and the night sky is inky black again, you and Iann will take flight." I was coming to the conclusion of my well thought out argument and as I prepared to rest my case, I studied Little Deer to gauge her reaction. I found her to be as unyielding as the rugged Appalachian Mountains that surrounded our home. "I need your courage, now more than ever, Little Deer," I added in an attempt to soften her, "This separation, all be it only a brief one, will be difficult for us both, but I will bear it better knowing that my brave sister is safe and well and far, far away from this cursed place."

**AN: Well, as you can likely guess . . . Little Deer is not a happy camper, and Carlisle's elequint and heartfelt words haven't won her over. I wonder how that's going to work out**

** ;)~ **


	44. Chapter 44

**Note: I do not own or have rights to Twilight or its characters!**

_**A short chapter before I go off to Stats class . . . Enjoy!**_

**Chapter 44**

** Ripples on a Pond**

I entered the kitchen to find Little Deer seated by the hearth with her sewing basket in her lap. She looked up as I walked in, but quickly turned her focus back to her work; she had not spoken a single word to me since I insisted that she and Iann leave Birch Bend without me. Her current behavior was reminiscent of that dreadful day when we left our wilderness home and I set the cabin alight. My actions that day gouged a deep wound in my sister's heart; so too had my insistent that she and Iann leave while I remained behind to deal with the Reverend.

The injury I inflicted by burning down our beloved cabin was little more than a sad footnote between us now. Just as a broken bone heals to be even stronger than it was previously, so too had our relationship become stronger in the aftermath of that trauma. I could only pray for a similar outcome this time once our family was reunited again.

"Iann should be back from his hunt soon," I commented casually, "I am very surprised that you did not accompany him." Truth be told, I was shocked. Since it became evident that Iann and Little Deer were distain to become mates one rarely found them apart; hunting was no exception to this.

She looked up from her sewing and stared at me with sorrow filled golden eyes. After several moments her gaze dropped back to her lap; throughout the brief exchange her silence remained unbroken.

"Will you not speak to me," I asked in a near pleading tone. Her continued refusal to say anything to me was becoming insufferable; it hurt me to the very core of my being.

She looked up at me again and, if she had been yet human, I would have sworn I saw the glisten of tears in her eyes. After another handful of moments she dropped her gaze once more, but this time she turned her entire body so that her back was towards me.

I was devastated; she might as well have snatched my stony heart from my chest and stomped it to dust. I let out a frustrated groan as I ran the fingers of my right hand through my hair. While I certainly understood and sympathized with her feelings, I couldn't understand why she seemed to be shutting me out. Could she not see that this situation, while clearly necessary, was causing me considerable distress as well? I detested the thought of once again being all alone in the world; even if only for the few weeks it would take me to discredit the Reverend. Just imagining coming home after my shift to find the cavernous house empty made my chest ache.

"Would you have me abandon these people," I insisted rather loudly. It was a rare occurrence that I would ever raise my voice, but the stress of the situation caused me to do just that. Not surprisingly in response to my outburst, Little Deer continued her defining silence. Out of frustration, I began to pace the floor as I tried to devise some way to get through to her; to make her see the necessity of my decision.

What fell next from my lips was not at all logical or well reasoned, as I had hoped it would be . . . it was however, from my heart. "Do you think this is easy for me; if you do, then let me assure you that you are very, very wrong?"

"From the first moment I awakened to this life, I have lived in utter loneliness," I continued my pacing as I spoke; I found the constant movement soothing and it seemed to help me solidify my thoughts. "Even in those times I spent brief periods living with others of our kind, I was still completely alone. I told myself time and again that this is my fate, my lot in life; a part of the penitence that I must endure for the redemption of myself and my brethren. In an attempt to drown out the ever present pain of my miserable existence, I cast all my energies into my work as a physician."

I paused in my rambling and chanced a fleeting look in my sister's direction; she sat like the impenetrable rampart of a great castle with her back was still towards me. I had yet to move her. Undaunted by her continued negative posture, I pressed on: these things were on my heart and I wished to give them voice.

"And then you came along and shattered the dark gloom of my solitary world. You became as light and air and joy to me; you transformed me by illuminating all that I had been missing in my life, and then . . . you filled that void with your presence."

"Now I am faced with the prospect of once more being plunged into the dark void of solitary misery . . . albeit only briefly. Nevertheless, I do not relish the anguish that I know is to come. Nor will it be an easy matter for me to stand fast while I watch you and Iann disappear towards the distant horizon. You and Iann mean more to me than my own existence; I would sacrifice anything, go to any length, to ensure your safety and well being. For that reason and no other am I willing to once more accept the fowl embrace of loneliness . . . I do it for your safety Little Deer, because I love you more that words in any language can express."

As my words stopped ringing in the air I turned my gaze yet again to my sisters back; nothing changed, she remained a wall of stone. I sighed heavily, while I felt some relief at having voiced my feelings my sister's persistent sulking continued to be a painful bur in my heart.

"Well, perhaps one day when you have more maturity under you . . . then you will understand," I muttered as I turned to leave the kitchen.

"It should not be this way," I heard her whisper just as I was about to exit the kitchen. I paused, her words were so softly spoken that I thought for a moment they might be a figment of my own desperate imagination.

When I turned around, I found her staring at me with wide sad eyes. "This is not what White Stag showed me. We are not to part company yet . . . this does not happen until the coming of the Great War to free the slaves. That is when you will travel northeast to the stone cities to be a healer to the soldiers in the Blue Army. This is when Iann and I will flee north to the land of the white bear and the Seal Hunters. These are the things White Stag showed me, this is the true path." She paused for a moment before adding, "This thing you wish to do is not right, it does not follow the path. I think my brother is wrong; he has allowed Coyote to deceive him and only bad things will come of it."

Enlightenment dawned on me like the coming of a new day; now I understood the cause of her grief and concern. Little Deer saw the future as a thing eternally set in stone and revealed to us, if we are so lucky, by the Creator's humble servants. The visions given to her by her guardian were unquestionable snippets of divine truth.

"Little Deer," I began gently. I would have to be very careful in how I handled this situation; my sister's beliefs were of great value to her. "You know that I have the upmost respect for your spirituality and, in fact, I highly value the wisdom imparted to you by White Stag. Far be it from me to cast a disparaging shadow over the sound revelations of truth that your Guardian has so often and so graciously provided.

"Having said that however, complete knowledge regarding the course of future events is a thing for the mind of God alone; none but the Creator knows for certain what tomorrow will bring."

"But White Stag showed me the path," she insisted quietly. "We do not part company until the Great War to free the slaves."

"Yes, I know," I replied as I came to join her by the hearth. "I fear that this war he showed you is inevitable, but I also fear it is many years off yet. According to your account, White Stag remained silent regarding the years in the interim . . . is it not possible then that my helping the people of Birch Bend is within the Creator's will? Is it not possible that this is a part of the true path?"

"We are not to part until the war," her tone remained insistent. "If we were supposed to part sooner, even if only for a little while, I think White Stag would have showed me this."

"Not necessarily," I replied warmly. "The future is not an easy thing to define; many things affect its outcome. If you will close your eyes for a moment, I will demonstrate what I mean."

Doubt continued to stain her features and burn behind her honey-gold eyes. In spite of her continued skepticism, she did as I requested. Her display of trust in this small concession soothed my bruised heart like a healing balm.

"I want you to imagine a pond . . . the beaver pond in the glen where you and Iann were married. The air is absolutely still and the pond's surface is completely undisturbed; it is as smooth as a mirror. Can you see that?" When she nodded, I continued, "This is life in a perfect world; quiet and calm, devoid of calamities that would agitate the waters of our lives. But we both know that the world is not a place of perfection, is it?"

She shook her head and a small frown turned down the corners of her mouth. I fought the urge to place a reassuring hand on her shoulder as I feared the act of doing so would break her concentration. Instead I continued with the second half of my illustration.

"No, our world is far from perfect," I sighed. "Imagine now, that same pond at the height of a summer rainstorm; whipping winds and driving rain stir the pond surface. Each rain drop causes a cascade of tiny ripples on impact; those ripples expand outward and encounter other ripples from other rain drops. This is life in its reality; chaotic outside forces constantly bombard us from every direction colliding with our past, impacting our present, and changing the course of our future.

"It is the chaotic nature of the world that makes predicting the future nigh on impossible, Little Deer. While White Stag's visions are helpful to be sure, but they are only one version of what might happen; change the pattern of ripples that lead into that version, even just a little, and you change the eventual outcome."

I knelt before her and cupped her cheek in the palm of my hand. When she opened her eyes in response to my touch, I smiled affectionately. "The future is not set in stone my child; there are many variables that affect how things will turn out . . . my helping the residence of Birch Bend is just as likely as any other eventuality to be a solid stepping stone on the true path."

_**AN: Yes, once again our favorite Doctor has failed to see the wisdom of White Stag. One would think that past experiences would have taught him better. Oh well, I guess a Vampire's learning curve is a bit broader given their extended life expectancies.**_


	45. Chapter 45

**Note: I do not own or have rights to Twilight or its characters!**

_**Yes, I know . . . but this smester is kicking my tail. **_

_**Enjoy!**_

**Chapter 45:**

**Deliver us From Evil:**

Wednesday evening brought with it an unusually breathtaking sunset; the sky was bright crimson as heaven's golden orb vanished below the horizon. I exited the barn leading Flint by the reins. Since my home remained under the watch of the Reverend's man, Little Deer could not tend the horses and I was forced to saddle my own mount. It mattered little anyway, two nights hence Iann and my sister would flee to safety leaving me with the horses as my only company.

As I walked the amiable piebald stallion towards the center of the yard, he began to prance nervously and pull at the reins. "Steady on now," I soothed as I patted his sleek neck. Moments later the sound that had him distressed brushed the edge of my hearing; the frantic pounding of a horse at full gallop thrummed in my ears. When I looked toward the road I saw a figure on horseback racing towards my home. A deep breath revealed the riders identity; to say that I was stunned was an understatement.

In the next few moments, sweat cover bay mare tumbled into my yard; her rider pulling heavily on the reins to stop the animal's forward momentum. When the laboring beast finally skittered to a halt, her rider greeted me.

"Dr. Cullen," Dr. Ludlow called breathlessly, he seemed just as worn out as his horse.

"What's the matter," I inquired apprehensively. "Has there been an incident at the mine." An explosion or a cave in would mean injuries enough to keep both our hands busy.

He shook his head as he struggled to catch his breath. "No," he finally managed, "There's been another killing . . . like Hiram. This time a group of miners saw a woman hovering over the body, then she up and vanished into thin air. The Reverend is convinced that the woman was your sister; he's got the whole town up in arms. He is on his way here as we speak with a mob of his followers . . . to collect your sister.

"If you value your family sir, flee now before they arrive," he insisted bluntly. "My family awaits me on the east road, near the covered bridge. I should have taken them from this cursed place ages ago."

"Thank you for the warning, Andrew, I am eternally in you debt," I replied and then added humbly, "Good luck and may God keep you and your family safe on your journey."

"You are a good man Carlisle Cullen, my family and I will keep you and yours in our prayers." With that he turned his horse eastward, galloped across the pasture, and disappeared into the trees.

After hastily turning Flint out in the paddock near the barn, I reentered the house. Iann and my sister awaited me in the parlor; their faces were grim as their predatory hearing had allowed them to eavesdrop on mine and Andrew's conversation. Little Deer's knowing eyes never left me as I crossed the room and flung open the floor safe.

"You must leave now," I began as I retrieved a purse of coins from the safe. These I pressed into Iann's hand. "I'll stay and deal whit the Reverend. Leave a trail that I can follow. I will catch up as soon as it is safe."

"You will come with us," in all the time I'd known her, my sister had never sounded so fiercely serious, "we will not leave you behind."

I turned to her then and took her firmly by the shoulders, "I do not have time to argue with you Little Deer. Our secret and our existence are in emanate peril; you will do as you are told and leave with Iann . . . Now! Do I make myself clear!"

Her expression went from defiant to hurt and her eyes swelled with sadness. I found having to be harsh with her very distasteful, but it was necessary to keep her safe. "After all of this is over," I cupped her cheek lightly as I tried to smooth over the impact of my stern remarks, "I'll buy a track of land near the Lakes and we will settle there for a while . . . I think it's high time I built you that house I promised."

My words did nothing to soften her expression, but they elicited the fiercest bear hug I'd ever received from her. I returned her embrace and pressed my lips into the crown of her head.

"Go out the back way," I instructed Iann as I continued to hold Little Deer. "The guard who watches the back of the house usually falls asleep. Stay low, keep to the shadows, and move at human speed until you reach the tree line. Once you are under cover, take to the tree tops as soon as you can; if you are stealthy and move with haste you should be able to pass the guards unnoticed. Go as far north as you can before sunrise."

Then I pushed Little Deer away gently, "Go with Iann now. Stay safe and I will be along presently."

It was clearly evident to me that she wanted to say something. Livid protest swirled in her golden eyes, but instead of unleashing the gale force furry of her objection, she allowed Iann to lead her through the house and out the back door. For a long time after I heard the back door rattle closed, I simply stood there surrounded by the deafening silence of my empty home.

I was all alone in the world once more.

**0o0o0o**

The sound of angry voices shouting and whooping drew me from my brooding thoughts. I rose from my favorite chair and made my way out onto the front porch. In the distance I could easily make out the mob heading this way along the road. They carried torches held high and muskets at the ready; the group looked a small army ready for war. My mind called into focus the mob which I had led that awful night my world changed . . . in time, all things come full circle.

When the Reverend and his mob finally arrived in my yard, I stood casually at the top of the steps. I watched them as the milled about; they settled down when their leader stepped forward and cleared his throat.

"We're here for the girl Cullen," he demanded haughtily. "There's been another killing, but this time there are witnesses that place your sister at the scene; standing over the body with blood on her clothes, face, and hands.

"Hand her over quietly Doctor . . . I assure you, she'll see a fair trial before she's hanged."

So it was a female vampire in the neighborhood. She was obviously a newborn and an orphan given her careless behavior; and she was causing quite a stir. Once I had the Reverend settled, I would have to track her down and teach her a few things. If I didn't, she would soon draw too much attention to herself and the Volturi would deal with her.

"Witnesses you say," I began as I strolled down the steps. "And who might these witnesses be, Reverend . . . since none in Birch Bend save you and Mr. Jacobson, have ever laid eyes on my sister."

"They are reliable," the Reverend huffed, "good Christian men, all three . . . sober and honest . . . and willing to testify in court to seeing your sister over the body."

"Willing to testify are they," I dismissed. "Testify to what . . . that they saw a woman covered in gore standing over a corps. Really Reverend, that's a bit of a stretch. What evidence have they that this woman was my Ayala?"

"They gave descriptions Doctor," Mr. Jacobson hissed as he emerged from the throng of men with three sheaves of paper held high in his right hand, "descriptions that bear an uncanny resemblance to your sister. Would you care to read them?"

The Reverend snatched the papers from Jacobson's hand, "Never mind reading them . . . the witnesses describe a young woman, smallish and thin with a pale complexion and long dark hair. That fits with your sister, Doctor . . . there's no arguing with eye witness evidence."

Humans put far too much stock in eye witness evidence, especially when their eyes are so often and so easily deceived. I appeared to them as wholly human, yet if they knew the truth of the matter, the truth of what stood before them; they might never believe the testimony of their own eyes ever again.

"Many young girls fit that description Reverend," I sighed. I had used this defense before, and it had served me well. "How could men who do not know my sister claim with certainty that they saw her?"

"It is precisely the point that they do not know her that makes their statements believable," Mr. Jacobson picked up confidently. "These men did not recognize the woman they saw, and your sister is the only unknown female among us. The process of elimination Doctor, leads to positive identification."

A series of shouts went up through the crowd accompanied by brandishing torches and rifles; the mob was becoming fidgety. A few reassuring words from the Reverend quickly settled them.

"The girl, Dr. Cullen," Reverend Wilcox insisted. "Bring her out quietly and no immediate harm will come to her. We are a civilized community; she will receive due process in the form of a speedy and fair trial."

"My sister is not here." The words barely made it from my lips before the crowd erupted into a fury of angry shouting. It took the Reverend longer to quell them this time and for a moment I feared he had lost all control of them.

"After the events of this past Sunday," I raised my voice so as to be heard over the continued chatter, "I sent my sister and brother-in-law away to safety. They left in the wee hours before dawn on Monday."

"You have set the demon loose among us unfettered," the Reverend hissed as he shook his bony finger in my face. "By sending her away you think to wash your hands of this; it did not work for Pontius Pilot and it will not work for you.

"You have sown the wind, Dr. Cullen, and now you shall reap the whirlwind." The Reverend then turned briefly to the crowd, "Seize him and bind him well; he will stand before the judgment seat in his sister's stead."

Multiple hands were suddenly upon me as lengths of heavy rope were wound around my body. It would be an easy matter to escape them; to be there in one moment and vanish into thin air the next, but that would leave a throng of witnesses behind. The memory of Ayala's last pleading look danced through my mind, why had I ignored her?

"Lay waste to it all," I heard the Reverend shout. "The devil's taint must be purged with fire; let nothing touched by the hand of evil remain."

I opened my mouth to object only to have a filthy rag stuffed into it. One torch, then two, and then three were thrown in through the front windows of the farm house. I watched in horror as the greedy orange tongues began to devour the structure. While physical objects could be replaced, there were some small sentimental items within which I deemed priceless; the worn copy of Caruso that was my sister's favorite, my father's bible, the medical bag that Dr. Montgomery gifted to me, and of course the ceremonial shirt that Little Deer made for me. A pang of regret seared my silent stony heart.

The sound of a musket shot followed by a horse's scream drew me back to reality. I turned towards the sound just in time to see Cloud collapse to the ground; a trail of bright crimson streamed from the neat round hole in the center of his forehead. In rapid succession Willow and Flint received the same unceremonious fate. Fond memories became instantly painful and made my chest ach as I gazed at the three lifeless forms now lying on the cold hard earth.

"Bring the beast," the Reverend ordered, "We'll lock him in the basement of the Church. When it is light again some of you men can set off in search of his demon spawn sister."


	46. Chapter 46

**Note : I do not own or have rights to Twilight or its characters!**

**Chapter 46**

**Captivity**

I allowed myself to be manhandled down the narrow rickety stairs leading to the church basement. The thought of escape had crossed my mind numerous times as we made our slow progression towards town. Unfortunately, with so many human eyes upon me I couldn't take the risk and chance exposure. I had seen first hand what measures Aro and the Volturi would go to in order to sanitize a situation. They would annihilate the entire community of Birch Bend if need be and not bat an eye or shed a tear over the monumental loss of human life. My pathetic existence wasn't worth the lives of so many.

Once at the bottom of the stairs, one of my captors burst past me and unlocked a heavy oaken door; the old wood and massive iron hinges groaned in protest as they were forced open. A blast of dank air tinted heavily with human scent greeted me from the semidarkness beyond. Without a word from those holding me, I was suddenly and roughly shoved through the open door. The sound of it slamming shut behind me was like the sealing of stone tomb.

The small room was cut from solid rock with no windows; the only way in or out was through the oak door. As for illumination, a number of stubby tallow candles did their best to beat back the ever present darkness. The oppressive atmosphere brought my current predicament into sharp focus; the reality of my impending doom settled around me like a cloak. Exposure of my true nature was only a matter of time now; I could survive whatever means of gruesome execution these men saw fit to meter out and they would know me for what am I.

The sound of soft whimpering made me put aside my morbid thoughts. Before me were five sets of tiny eyes which belonged to a cluster of five very frightened children. The oldest among them was a boy who couldn't be more than thirteen. Huddled around him and clinging to him like so many strands of English Ivy were four young girls; they seemed to range in age from about two years up to about seven. Each frightened face bore a striking resemblance to the other four; they were obviously siblings.

Before I could inquire as to whom these poor children belonged and why they were locked in the church basement, an agonizing groan from the far corner of the room drew my attention. When I turned towards the sound, I found a woman crouched over the prone figure of a man. A discrete deep breath brought a cornucopia of scents to my nose; they told me an incomplete, but no less appalling story.

I glanced briefly at the children before crossing the room towards the woman, "Mrs. Ludlow," I inquired softly. I had never met Andrew's wife before, but her scent always lingered on him as if it were infused into his very body.

The woman looked up at me and I could tell that my presence had startled her. Her eyes were swollen from crying and moist trails still glistened on her cheeks. "Yes," she finally managed in a trembling voice. "Who are you?"

"I'm Dr. Cullen," I replied as I knelt beside her. "I work with . . ."

"You work with my husband," she finished my statement for me. "I know. Andrew often speaks of you." The sadness on her face was replaced with twists of concern, "Didn't you and your family escape?"

"Thanks to your husband, my sister and brother-in-law managed to get away safely," I answered as I began my assessment of Dr. Ludlow's injuries. The pungent scent of human blood mingled with the putrid smell of infection wafted in strong waves off of Andrew. "Is that your husband's medical bag?" I nodded towards the bag as I asked the question.

Without a hint of hesitation she passed the bag to me and then moved so that I could now have access to my patient. "How did this happen?" I asked as I opened Andrew's shirt to reveal a gaping gunshot wound to his mid abdomen. The question was intended not only to satisfy my own curiosity but also to distract the distraught Mrs. Ludlow.

"Andrew returned from warning you about the Reverend; he met us at the bridge just like he said," she began relating her story. "We made about an hour's progress when suddenly the Reverend's men thundered up on horseback. They swarmed around us like angry hornets, waving their torches and rifles and shouting all manner of foul things. The children and I were so afraid."

"I can imagine it must have been quite harrowing," I commented as I worked to staunch the bleeding from Andrew's wound. "How was your husband injured?"

"When one of the men snatched little Eliza from the back of the wagon, Andrew leveled his musket and demanded that she be let go," a brief wave of tears overtook the woman as she remembered the events. Though a part of me wished to offer her some measure of comfort, I knew that my patient's needs came first.

"They shot him," she declared when she had her composure again. "They shot my Andrew right off his horse . . . he never had a chance."

This time she broke down completely; I could hardly blame her. "Mrs. Ludlow," I called her name in gentle yet commanding voice, "I need more bandages for your husband as well as fresh water." The best thing I could do for the woman now was to give her something to focus her energies on.

After a moment, she nodded and pulled up the hem of her dark blue frock to reveal her white cotton under dress. "Will this suffice Doctor?" she inquired.

"Tear it into strips as wide as your palm," I instructed her.

As she began working with the material she turned to the children, "Ephraim, please bring the bucket of drinking water for the doctor."

The boy glared at me before unwinding himself from the tangle of his sister's arms. When he arrived at my side with the water, his glare had become a deep scowl.

"The Reverend says you're a demon and your sister is one too," the boy blurted when I reached for the water bucket.

"Ephraim!" his mother spoke the boy's name in a scolding tone.

"The Reverend's men shot Father because of you," he went on in spite of his mother's harsh tone.

"Do I look like a demon?" I asked kindly. "Would a demon try to help your father by tending to his injuries?"

"He doesn't have horns Ephraim, or red skin and a tail," one of the younger children offered in my defense.

"But the Reverend said . . ."

"The Reverend said that your father is in league with the devil," his mother cut him off sharply, "and accused me of being a witch; how could you possibly put any stock in that fowl man's words?"

"I assure you lad," I began softly as I took the bucket of water from the boy's hands, "I am no demon. I am just an ordinary man who has run afoul of the Reverend Wilcox's twisted view of reality."

**0o0o0o**

"Carlisle, is that you?" Andrew's voice was week as he struggled to sit up.

"I'm here," I soothed as I gently pushed him back down against the makeshift bed. "Rest easy now."

His wife and children had finally lost their battle with sleep several hours earlier; only I remained awake to keep vigil. Dr. Ludlow's wound was mortal and I could offer him only comfort measures and my steadfast company.

"Did you not flee?" he asked after licking his parched lips. "Your family . . ."

"My sister and brother-in-law are safe," I insisted as I pressed a glass of water to his lips. "I remained behind in hopes of somehow breaking the Reverend's hold on these people."

After swallowing a number of sips, Andrew turned his head away, "A noble thought," he grunted, "But a foolish one." A grimace of pain marched across his face and then he added, "God knows I've tried to show these people the light of reason, yet they refuse to see it. You should have fled with your family."

"Perhaps you are right," I agreed as I prepared a dose of laudanum, "But had I fled, I would not be here with you now in your hour of need." With a reassuring smile, I offered him the medicine.

"A waste of your time," Andrew grumped after he swallowed the last of the draught. "We both know the truth . . . my wound is mortal. I'll be lucky to survive . . ."

"Father," Ephraim's groggy voice brought our conversation to an abrupt end.

Andrew and I exchanged glances. Though neither of us said anything, we both knew that this might well be his last chance to speak to his son.

"Come here my boy," Andrew called to his son. The boy crawled over and, in spite of his age, sought the comfort of his father's touch. "That's my good lad," Andrew cooed as he stroked the boy's cheek, "You're turning out to be quite a fine young man. Have I told you recently just how proud I am of you?" Confusion lit the boy's sleepy eyes as he shook his head, Andrew smiled warmly at his son. "Oh I can see a wonderful future in store for you my boy. Perhaps you'll become a physician, like your old man . . . that would be something eh? I'm sure Dr. Cullen here wouldn't mind putting in a good word for you."

"Certainly, I would be honored to," I muttered, feeling a bit out of place listening in on this very private moment.

"Now you must promise your old man a few things," I could see the brink of tears glistening in the man's eyes as he spoke. "Always look after your mother and your sisters. Mind what your mother tells you because you're still just a lad, but when you're grown . . . make sure she's well cared for. And don't let your sisters marry just any old doddle-headed lout; make sure they're men of quality that can take proper care of them."

"Yes Father," the boy replied as he rubbed sleep from his eyes.

"Good lad, now back to bed with you," he instructed his son kindly, "And Ephraim," the boy paused and turned attentively to his father, "I love you son: I know I don't say it often, but I do."

When Ephraim was nestled snuggly back in his sleeping space I turned my gaze back to Andrew; tears leaked from his warm brown eyes. I could empathize with this man; had I not just given the same sort of good-by to my own family.

"Shall I wake your daughters," I asked with more than a little quiver in my voice.

"Please don't think me a coward, but _God no_ . . . I don't think I could stand it."

"Your wife then," I inquired.

He nodded as he blinked back tears, "Yes, there are things I need to say to her." Then he grabbed my wrist and fixed me with a determined gaze. "But first I have a request to make of you; get my family to safety. Do whatever you must, but please . . . I beg you, get them to safety. If you will do that for me, Carlisle, then I can die in peace."

"I will try my best Andrew," I assured him honestly, "On that you have my word."

With my assurance, he released my wrist and I moved to rouse Mrs. Ludlow from her sleep. Once she was awake, I moved to the furthest corner of the room. I forced my mind to recall countless complete passages from every surgical handbook I'd ever read; all so as not to inadvertently eavesdrop on this most personal of painful moment.

Not long after a protracted and emotion fraught conversation with his wife, Dr. Andrew Ludlow passed quietly in his sleep. The world was now lacking a devoted father, a loving husband, and one of the most decent humans I had ever come to know.


	47. Chapter 47

**Note: I do not own or have rights to Twilight or its characters!**

**Chapter 47**

**Set the Captives Free**

The sound of tromping boots beyond the oak door was soon followed by the rattling of keys being turned in the lock. The sudden commotion caused the children to clamor for their mother. I rose to my feet and positioned myself between Mrs. Ludlow and her children and whoever was on the other side of the door. To my surprise, I was soon joined by Ephraim; we exchanged glances and while I noted the fear in his eyes I admired his determination to fill his father's shoes.

"Let me do the talking lad," I whispered to which he wordlessly nodded his agreement.

Once more the door groaned in protest as it was forced open. The Reverend Wilcox flanked by Mr. Jacobson and three other men trooped into the dank little room.

"We've brought you breakfast," Mr. Jacobson informed us as one of the men set a large basket at my feet. After he spoke, he glanced nervously at the Reverend, almost as if he feared he'd spoken out of turn. In response the Reverend gave an almost imperceptible nod.

I took a deep breath, scenting the contense of the basket to ensure the wholesomeness of the food within it. Only when I was confident that it was safe did I addressed at the boy beside me, "Take the basket to you mother Ephraim; your sisters are likely very hungry." With a firm nod the boy obeyed me.

"Tell us where your sister and her husband went, Dr. Cullen," The Reverend demanded. "Tell us and things will go much easier for and you all."

"Dr. Ludlow is dead Reverend; he died from his wounds over night" I shot back. "An innocent man has lost his life, five children are without a father, and a woman in the prime of her life is now widowed . . . all in the name of your twisted quest to lay hands on my sister. Are you satisfied Reverend . . . and if you are not, how high must the death toll mount before your blood lust is quenched?"

"Dr. Ludlow was anything but innocent," the Reverend answered my charges casually. "He and his wife practiced the foulest forms of the black arts and he preached blasphemy in public. If he is dead then he has saved us the expense of a trial and the cost of a length of rope to hang him with."

From behind me I heard the sharp startled gasp of Mrs. Ludlow. I fervently wished I could have spared her from hearing such crass comments about her recently late husband. With the exception of my father, I could not remember ever meeting a more callous human being before.

"Your sister Doctor," his insisted tone forced my mind in to focus again. "We will find her; your efforts at concealment only prolong the inevitable." He paused then and his eyes locked on the sobbing Mrs. Ludlow; a nauseating smile curled his lips as he took a breath and prepared to speak again. "Tell us in which direction she and her husband went and I might consider sparing the witch's children . . . they're young enough to be rehabilitated and sent back on the road to righteousness."

"Oh please, Dr. Cullen," the woman behind me muttered between sobs. Had I been human her plea would have been little more than unintelligible mumbling.

I was at a loss; no matter what I told them they would never find Little Deer and Iann. My family was far from this place by now and no amount of human searching would find them.

"North," I finally sighed, "They went north, but I do not know their intended destination." I could only hope that the vague information would be enough to forestall our impending doom long enough for me to devise an escape.

"A wise decision Doctor," the Reverend grunted before turning to give orders to his men. "When your sister is located, I will begin looking for homes to place the girls in . . . the boy, I fear, is too old to purge the devil's taint from."

Then the deplorable man and his host left the dank room slamming the oak door shut behind them. I was left alone with the distraught widow and her frightened children . . . and of course, my own brooding thoughts.

**0o0o0o**

The frugal Mrs. Ludlow rationed out the contents of the morning meal in such a way that the food lasted all day. This was fortunate as we received no more visitors and therefore no more supplies. I declined any offer of sustenance, insisting that the children needed it more than I did. This of course was true to a certain extent. However, thirst burned hotly in the back of my throat and no amount of human food would quench it. I would have to hunt very soon.

I counted three changing of the guards at the top of the stairs; one just before our breakfast arrived, another several hours later (I judged this to be approximately midday) and another just two hours ago. By my calculations this would make it early evening in the world beyond our stony prison.

As the day passed, I forced numerous escape scenarios through my mind; picking each one apart in turn for possible fatal flaws. All of them had ended badly with either multiple fatalities or my exposure. I continued my silent strategizing, though I was beginning to lose hope that a peaceful escape was possible.

"You really should eat something," Mrs. Ludlow was beside me offering me a crust of bread and a boiled egg. "I know you refuse food so that the children and I have plenty, but you haven't eaten all day." She pressed the bread into my left hand, "Please eat."

How could I tell her that I didn't need to eat? How could I refuse her selfless generosity in spite of her recent tragedy? With a sigh I nodded and began politely nibbled at the bread; it smelled far less offensive to my inhuman senses than the boiled egg.

As I continued to pick at the bread, I watched in amazement as Mrs. Ludlow gathered her children about her. Though I caught her from time to time casting errant glances at the shrouded form and on several occasions I noticed tears in her eyes; the woman was showing uncommon strength. With her brood gathered round her she recited sever verses from Psalms and then together they said a common bedtime prayer. Before packing them off for the night she wiped each tiny face with a dampened corner of her dress tail and then kissed each child goodnight.

I felt highly privileged to witness this most common routine and I felt comforted by it as well. In spite of chaos, loss, and sorrow life continues on; the sun still rises and set, the tides still come and go, and mothers still say night prayers and tuck their children into bed.

"You should try and sleep too." Mrs. Ludlow whispered as she stroked her youngest daughter's hair. "You were up all night with Andrew and you've been awake all day as well."

"That's very kind of you Mrs. Ludlow, but I find that I sleep very little these days."

"Please, it's Abigail," she corrected me gently. "You're worried about your sister and her husband . . . aren't you?"

I nodded but said nothing.

"I'm sure they will be fine," she insisted and then after a pause she added, "Please foregive me, I'm sorry about earlier . . . about wanting you to give up you sister for the sake of my children. I know you must love her as much as I love them."

I dismissed her apology with a wave of my hand, "Abigail, you have nothing to apologies for. There is no force on this earth that is stronger, or truer, or more pure than a mother's love for her children. I don't hold your desire to save them against you."

"Thank you," she replied as she settled in among her children and closed her eyes. "My husband was right in the things he said about you; you are a very kind and compassionate man."

For appearances sake I found a spot on the floor along the wall and made myself comfortable. I allowed my eyes to drift closed and my breathing to become shallow and even; for all intense and purpose I appeared to be asleep. As I lay there I continued my earlier musings on how to escape. I did this while still keeping a portion of my mind focused of Abigail and her children and another portion focused on listening for any sounds coming from upstairs.

How long I laid there listening to the world around me was a difficult thing to say, time seemed to be nonexistent in our subterranean cell. I could only guess that it must have been midnight or later when my ears detected the muffled sounds of chaos from above us. Though the thick stone walls distorted outside sound, I still managed to make some things out. It started with the patter of hurried feet scurrying about and then I made out snippets of muttered conversation.

". . . a fire at the mine . . ." the first snippet said then a few minutes later another voice announced, ". . . warehouse behind the mercantile is on fire too."

Both the mine and the mercantile were on the far opposite end of town which meant that we were in no immediate danger. I considered rousing Abigail and telling her what was going on, but decided against it. She and the children were resting peaceful and we were safe for the moment. Instead, I shifted back into a state of relaxed alertness.

"Hey you there," a familiar Irish brogue called from somewhere beyond the oak door. "Haven't you heard; half the town's on fire. What are you lot doing lounging around in here . . . every man is needed to fight the fires."

"The Reverend said we were to keep guard," one of the men answered.

"Did he now," the Irish brogue mocked. "Well the Reverend just told _me_ to round up every able bodied man in Birch Bend and put them on the bucket brigades. You two look pretty able bodied to me, so get out there . . . the home you save could be your own."

There was a very tense moment of silence before I heard two sets of feet running from the church. In the next moment there was a light knock at the oaken door. "Carlisle," the Irish brogue called softly, "Are you in there?"

"Yes Iann," I answered as an intense wave of relief washed over me. "Never have I been happier to hear a man's voice than I am hearing yours right now."

"I'll have you out of there in a wink," Iann chuckled.

"Be mindful, I'm not alone," I cautioned him. "Mrs. Ludlow and her children are in here as well."

"I wasn't expecting that, but more blackbirds means a bigger the pie," my brother-in-law replied. After an application of vampire strength, the lock gave way and the oak door creaked open.

**0o0o0o**

With Iann in front and me bringing up the rear, we ushered Mrs. Ludlow and her children up the stairs and into the main sanctuary of the small church. Before I could process what was happening to me, I was struck hard from the left side and wrapped in a pair of iron arms; I was caught in the vice of Little Deer's embrace. I returned her affection, but only briefly as we had little time to lose.

After extricating myself from my sister's arms I began considering our next steps. I was sure Iann and Ayala had set the fires that had the town in an uproar. A distraction was the missing critical element in my own escape plans, but the chaos wouldn't last too long. Were it only the three of us fleeing this place, we could simply run; with six humans, transportation was in order.

"Ayala, we need a wagon for Mrs. Ludlow and her children."

She eyed the woman and her frightened brood for only a moment before nodding and setting off to find transport.

"Is there really a fire?" Ephraim asked sleepily.

"Aye, lad," Iann answered. His tone indicated his immense pleasure with himself. "And a fine fire it is too . . . it illuminates the night sky like a sunrise."

"Iann," I scolded lightly. Iann's lips curved into a frown but a smile lingered in his eyes.

"Mrs. Ludlow," my brother began politely, "Why don't you and the children wait in the vestibule. I have one more lovely fire to set and I'd hate to get lamp oil all over you while I'm dousing the sanctuary."

"Mr. O' Connor," the late doctor's wife exclaimed, "I may not hold much affection for the Reverend Wilcox, but surely you don't intended to set the house of God on fire?"

"Aye, mama I do," Iann answered as he unscrewed the burner collar from the nearest lamp. "But don't worry; scripture say that God owns the cattle of a thousand hill sides . . . I suspect he has ample funds to rebuild one house."

"Mr. O'Connor," she exclaimed again even more indignantly.

I scowled at Iann before taking Mrs. Ludlow by the arm. "Come along Abigail, let's take the children and go out to the vestibule."

"But he plans to . . ."

"I know full well what he plans to do," I insisted kindly as we began to walk together, "and it would be best for everyone if we leave him to it."

**0o0o0o**

The sound of horses and the rattle of a wagon pulling up outside the church coincided with Iann's exit from the church sanctuary. The timing couldn't have been more fortuitists. After making a quick headcount to insure all the children were present and accounted for, Iann and I escorted the brood outside.

Little Deer managed to secure a wagon and team from somewhere; I didn't bother to ask questions. With the fire spreading rapidly through the church, we loaded the children and Mrs. Ludlow into the wagon. I leapt nimbly into the driver's seat and took up the reins. The horses were nervous already due to the smoke and the general air of pandemonium that permeated the town, which only served to aggravate their natural aversion to our kind. A light flick of the reins made the team jump and the sorrel mare to my right kicked at her harnessing. The wagon lurched forward, but the panicked sorrel horse continued to fight until the trace strap on her harness snapped.

To avoid further damage or injury to the horses, I pulled hard on the rains bringing the animals to a stop. Over the past few years I had become spoiled to Cloud and Willow's acceptance of our presence; dealing with skittish horses was an annoyance.

Little Deer and Iann got down to inspect the damage.

"The mare is unhurt," my sister informed me as she ran her hand over the mare's hind leg. It still amazed me that in spite of her nature, most animals willing allowed her to touch them. "I will go back to the livery stable and get a new strap." Before I could stop her she trotted off at human speed into the night.

"Perhaps I should drive next time, Dr. Cullen," Abigail offered.

"Perhaps you should," I agreed. "It seems that I'm a disaster with wagons."

I helped Abigail climbed down and she instantly took up the task of soothing the nervous mare while Iann removed the broken strap. When Little Deer returned we would fit the new one and be on our way.

The sound of a child's scream made us all look up from our work in unison. The Reverend stood a number of yards away with little Eliza firmly in his grasp; a cocked pistol press against the side of her head. With the smell of fear and smoke in the air I had missed scenting his approch.

"I knew this night was demon's work!" he snarled. Eliza continued to struggle for release but the Reverend gave her a good shake, "Keep still witch child . . . if you know what's good for you."

"Eliza," one word from her mother and the girl went limp in the wretched man's arms.

"Let the girl go Reverend," I insisted plainly. "Mrs. Ludlow and her children are innocent, let them leave Birch Bend in peace. After all . . . it's me you want not them."

The Reverend's dark laughter filled the night, "It isn't you that I want Doctor, though I will accept your surrender and I will take great delight in watching you burn. It's that hell spawn sister of yours that I really want."

"You have me," I allowed just a hint of a growl to accompany my words, "Take what I offer, one willing sacrifice, and let the others go unharmed."

"It is your sister I want Doctor and I mean to have her!" he snarled in reply.

"Then it would be a disgrace for me to disappoint you," the words and my sister's voice came from the shadows of a small building across the street.

The events which transpired next were a blur even to my inhuman eyes. Little Deer darted from the darkness at vampire speed. She knocked the pistol from the Reverend's hand and snatched the man up so quickly that poor frightened Eliza was left sitting in the dusty street. Ayala's headlong momentum sent her and the Reverend tumbling together towards disaster. I watched in horror as my sister and Reverand Wilcox crashed like a battering ram through the doors of the burning church.

"Ayala," Iann shouted, the agony in his voice was palpable. I barely managed to catch him before he charged into the blazing structure after his mate.

"She'll come out," I assured him and then I pointed to a strap of leather lying in the road. "The trace strap, fix it quickly."


	48. Chapter 48

**Note: I do not own or have rights to Twilight or its characters!**

_For Christopher ~ Sept 1992 – Dec 1994 ~ in loving memory_.

**Chapter 48**

**Tribulation**

_.__She'll come out_; the word continued to ring through my mind as we worked to repair the broken harness. Both Iann and I cast frequent glances towards the inferno that had once been a church. Moments after Little Deer and the Reverend crashed through the doors, the man's chilling screams of agony echoed on the smoky night air. Abigail was visibly shaken; her children cried and clung to her for comfort.

With the trace strap replaced, I quickly ushered Mrs. Ludlow and her brood back into the wagon. There was still no sign of Little Deer. My eyes locked with Iann's; emptiness dwelt where joy and life once resided. That same emptiness now settled like a giant stone in the place where my human heart had once beat. My throat grew tight as ghostly unsheadable tears pooled in my eyes; the reality of my sister's tragic sacrifice was settling in.

"I'm going to go and look for her," Iann muttered darkly.

I clamped my hand firmly on his shoulder as I nodded my understanding. It was a rarity when one member of a mated pair chose to live on beyond the death of the other. To my knowledge, only Marcus had chosen this bleak path . . . and only in the hopes of one day avenging the destruction of his beloved.

"I'm sorry, perhaps if I hadn't stopped you . . ."

Iann shook his head, "Perhaps if I'd paid heed to the good Mrs. Ludlow and spared God's house . . ." he allowed the rest of the statement to trail off. By his own hand he had set the fire that consumed his mate; that was a burden that I doubted even the strongest among our kind could bear. I would certain falter under it.

"Try . . . try around back," I stammered. In my grief, I was finding it hard to think coherently. "She might have stumbled out that way." I knew she had not; though the night sky was to inky black to give evidence of it, I suspected that purple smoke mingled among the ashy plums rising from the burning church.

"I will," he nodded, "Long life and good hunting to you, Carlisle . . . my brother."

The words of his simple good-by ripped through me like a hot iron; first my sister and now my brother, lost to me for all eternity. "Long life and good hunting to you, Iann . . . my brother," I replied in turn.

He turned then and disappeared into the darkness and I knew I would never see him again. When his search tuned up empty he would hurl himself into the same funeral pier that had claimed Little Deer.

"Dr. Cullen," Mrs. Ludlow's insistent voice called to me from the wagon. The panic in her eyes told me she was ready to flee. With a heavy heart I climbed up beside her and watched as she flicked the reins and stirred the team in motion. My family, my life, my world lay in utter ruin.

**0o0o0o**

I remained with the Ludlow family for the next week and a half. We traveled under the cover of darkness until we reached a town where Abigail and her children could book passage on a river barge bound for Albany. From there they would travel overland to Massachusetts where she had a brother and an aunt. I saw them off on a dreary Thursday morning. Their company had been a source of distraction for me, keeping my mind off the gaping void left by the loss of Little Deer and Iann.

As I left the docks by the river, despair seemed to close in around. I had once told Little Deer that she was as light and joy and air to me; without her presence life was bleak and abysmal and each useless breath made my chest ache with the grief of her absence. Most among our kind believe that a vampire is incapable of change, but I know this not to be true. It is difficult and rare, but when the hand of change does seize us the results are profound and irreversible. Little Deer changed me; she showed me what this existence could and should be like. She gave me her unwavering love and a sense of belonging . . . we were a family and now she was gone.

At dusk I left the little town and began to wander the forested back country. In spite of the thirst that burned like cinders in my throat I had no desire to hunt. I had not taken sustenance since the evening before the Reverend and his mob arrived. This was my longest stretch without taking nourishment since those first dark days when I tried to end my life through starvation. As the night wore on I continued to wander aimlessly; I had nowhere to go and no reason to go there.

Days passed, how many I could not say. I paid little attention to the landscape I wandered through until one evening I noticed a familiar tree. The stately elm had been a constant fixture on my rides to and from Birch Bend; it marked the halfway point between the farm house and the town. On my way to the hospital each evening it signaled the emanate need for me to focus my mind in preparation for the tasks ahead. On my way home each morning it brought a smile to my lips as it indicated I would soon be in the warm welcoming company of my family once more.

As I stood there staring at the elm, I suddenly knew what I must do. In spite of the nearly nauseating pain that permeated every fiber of my being, I turned my course towards the town.

I arrived shrouded by the cover of darkness; at this late hour no one was about. I did not loiter but made straight for my destination. When my eyes first caught sight of it my knees nearly buckled. All that remained of the church where Iann and Little Deer lost their lives was a charred gaping hole; it perfectly matched the gaping void at the core of my being. The familiar sting of unsheadable tears returned to my eyes as I gave myself over completely to despair.

As the night wore on, I poked through the burned out structure; what I hoped to find I could not say. Perhaps I would come across some sign that my brother and sister yet lived, some indication that they had escaped and awaited me in the north. Not surprisingly, I found no such indication. I continued to pick through the rubble, examining bits of wood and shards of broken glass._ Remember man that you are dust and to dust you shall return_; the words of a long forgotten Sunday morning sermon rattled through my head. The laws of nature are unyielding; all things in the end must return to their primal state . . . even vampires.

The moon slipped from behind a billowy cloud casting the remains of the church in high contrast; silver light and black shadows. The illumination only served to intensify the harshness of the ghastly scene and stoke the liquid fire of grief burning where my heart had once beaten.

Something shimmering among the mangled debris drew my attention. On closer inspection I found fine silver ash among the rubble in an area that I judged to have once been near the vestibule; Little Deer's earthly remains. Faced with hard evidence, I could no longer delude myself with fanciful notions that my sister might still live. The undeniable truth made the liquid fire that burned in my chest rise up and squeeze my throat shut; I could not breathe nor could I think coherently about anything. All that my mind seemed capable of doing at that moment was to force me to relive, in agonizing slowness, our last brief embrace and the final few moments that I had witnessed Little Deer alive.

I wanted to scream, but air wouldn't move through my grief tightened throat. I wanted to cry, but tears were an impossibility for my immortal eyes. I wanted do something, anything, to end the torment of pain that consumed ever fiber of my being. The exquisite agony I now felt was a hundred time worse that the fiery hell of my transformation; I would gladly trade my current misery for the venom induced torture without hesitation.

I could not say how long I stood there staring at my sister's shimmering remains, but the sound of a cockerel announcing the imminent approach of the new day shook me to my senses. If I did not wish to be caught and exposed by the rising sun, I needed to leave. Unfortunately, my feet would not obey my command to move; I seemed rooted in the place where I stood. How could I leave her here? I found myself unable to simply walk away.

With the coming day a fast approaching reality, I took up a fist full of pine straw for a whisk and carefully collected all the silver ash I could find. I gathered them into my silk handkerchief and then knotted it securely. I continued my search until I found a second pile of silvery ash; Iann's ashes. These I gathered into a square of silk that I tore from the lining of my frock coat. After placing both bundles in my coat pocket, I climbed out of the rubble and bolted for the cover of the forest. By the time the sun's first light glowed on the eastern horizon I had put many miles between myself and the accursed town of Birch Bend.

_**AN: Two of the chief reasons I don't often write death into my stories are that: A) I tend to fall in love with my characters; after all, on some level, they are actually a part of my own personality and B) it forces me to face anew the darkness of my own "exquisite agony" in the form of the profound losses that I have suffered in my own life. Much of the qualitative descriptions of Carlisle's pain are out growths of my own experiences; in particular, the death of my second born child to whom I dedicated this chapter. **_


	49. Chapter 49

**I do not own or have rights to Twilight or its characters!**

**Chapter 49**

**I'll Meet You in the Morning**

Time quickly became a complete irrelevance as horrid bleak days blurred one into another. When the glowing golden sun hung in the sky, I sheltered in whatever dark shadowy hole I could find. When the silver orb of the moon returned to claim the heavens, I ran on and on. All the while memories that I once found comforting and pleasant became the devil's own bullwhip; scourging my tattered soul.

When I finally came to a cliff overlooking a small town nestled along the banks of the Ohio River, I decided it was time to end my suffering. The sleepy little community number only about a dozen and a half people; a boatman's stopping off spot with a trading post, tavern, and a few dwellings. When the sun next climbed to its zenith, I would step out to the edge of the precipice and call the town's attention to me. I would continue to expose myself in this way until Aro and the Volturi were forced to deal with me. Then Iann, Little Deer, and I would all be together again in whatever realm was allotted to vampires for the hereafter.

With that decision made, I felt suddenly rush of peace suffuse me. For the first time since the night of Little Deer and Iann's death, the angry claws of grief stopped their ceaseless tearing and my pain subsided. I loved them more than existence, a part of my very being was inexorably tied to them, and I simply could not continue in this life without them. In that moment I became overly aware of the weight in my coat pocket and a sad smile curled my lips as I reach into the depth fold of fabric to touch their bundled remains. Had I realized this solution sooner, we might already be together in the city built four square.

The fiery sting of thirst made its presence known as it griped my throat. I had not hunted since . . . well since before this whole tragic affair unfolded. I decided that it might be wise to do so now. After all, I wished to expose myself to the humans in the town, not fall upon them in drunken bloodlust.

**0o0o0o**

I followed the scent of game through the tingle of undergrowth, already I had taken down a large male deer. The earthy tang of its blood still lingered on my tongue; it had not been enough to state me and I was in search of more. The scent that currently filled my nose was tantalizing, but completely unfamiliar to me. It definitely wasn't human, of that I was sure . . . and I wanted it more than anything, of that I was also sure.

I tumbled from the undergrowth, finding myself in a quiet glen. The scent was so intense that all of my predatory instincts told me the thing I desired should be immediately before me. Yet with the exception of a few fireflies and chirping crickets, the glen was empty. My senses had never lied to me before, and their current unreliability had me very confused.

"Perhaps it is insanity," I muttered to myself. If, in my grief, my mental faculties were indeed slipping, the sooner I met my ending the better . . . before I disgraced myself by feeding on some hapless human.

I was about to leave the tranquil little clearing when the sound of crashing and thrashing in the underbrush made me look to the tree line. Suddenly _he_ stepped from the shadows in all his magnificent otherworldly glory; White Stag gazed at me with one unblinking crimson eye.

In spite of my grief, White Stag's presence had me absolutely livid, "Now you come!" I shouted at the pale glowing beast. "What good are you now? She's gone and I'll never know the joy of her smile or the ferocious warmth of her embrace or the power of her immense courage _ever_ _again_! You are too late, do you hear me . . . you are too bloody late!"

The beast stood there mute and his silence irked me even more, "This is your fault," I growled angrily as I shook my finger at the snowy spirit animal. "It's all your fault! You could have warned her . . . you could have warned me! You let this travesty happen; it's your fault,"

I dropped to my knees, covered my face with my hands, and began to sob, "It's all your fault."

The glen went silent then even the crickets had ceased to sing; the only sound was that of my piteous sobs. After a time I heard crashing and thrashing among the brush again and thought White Stag had departed. I looked up only to find the unyielding beast still standing there with his judicious eyes fixed firmly on me. But he was no longer alone.

Beside him now was a small doe; her coat the same shimmering otherworldly white as his. In the depths of her large crimson eyes great sadness lurked. Curiously, on one side of her graceful neck was a jagged dark brown crescent shaped patch of fur; the sight of it made me gasp.

"Little Deer," I couldn't help the words that escaped my lips.

I was petrified with shock as I watched the lithe little doe approach me. She held her head low as she sniffed the night air and her bushy tail whipped back and forth excitedly. When she was right in front of me, she pressed her cold wet nose to my forehead; she then proceeded to examine every inch of my face and hair. When her inspection was complete and she was satisfied, I felt her warm tongue lovingly caress my marble cheek.

Without thought I reached out my hand and stroked the arch of her neck. Her fur was incredibly soft under my hand, but I could feel the crackle of power radiating off of her. The doe leaned into my touch and rewarded my affection by licking my face again; I couldn't help the smile the curled my mouth.

The still night air was suddenly pierced by a sharp haunting cry. I looked up in time to see the largest and most magnificent male Red-tailed Hawk glide from between the treetops and alight on the bow of a nearby sycamore. The bird's fierce yellow eye fixed me causing a sudden shiver to course up my spine.

"Iann," I whispered.

My mind couldn't wrap itself around what I was seeing. I always wanted to believe that we were not "soul-less" creatures as Aro and others had insisted we were. I held fast to the belief that an _everlasting_ existed for us beyond our immortality; yet I had to admit that I sometimes faltered in my faith. Now I had the substance of that faith right before me; like St. Thomas with his finger in Christ's wounds, I had touched it with my own hands. Our existence did not end with fire and purple smoke and silver ashes.

I began to sob again; I was witness to a mercial more powerful, profound, and life changing than my own immortality. My sister and brother had achieved real immortality, an eternity in the welcoming and loving presence of the Creator. Redemption was possible even for a vampire; Little Deer and Iann had been blessed with it.

White Stag tossed back his head and filled the night with a mighty bellow. My hands went to my ears even as my vision shifted to blackness. A cavalcade of faces, starting with the caramel haired woman, marched through my mind: a young man with intense green eyes and a sad smirk on his lips, a beautiful young woman with the air of royalty about her, a grizzly bear of a young man with a mischievous smile and dark curly locks, a petit dark haired girl that reminded me of the fairy folk Iann told stories about, another young man built tall and lanky but with easy grace and an air of calm surrounding him, and finally another girl with mouse brown hair, warm intelligent eyes, and unconditional love written in her features.

"_You will not always be alone my brother,"_ I heard my sister's voice whisper on an errant gust of wind as the White Stag's vision faded. When I opened my eyes, the glen was empty once more . . . but my heart was fuller than it had ever been. While grief still made my chest ache and I still missed my sister and brother more than words could express, I now had something I did not have before . . . _hope_. Love was an indestructible force and not even death could quench its fire; one day we would be together again . . . and that knowledge was enough to give me the strength to live on.

**0o0o0o**

I stood among the ruins of what had once been the cabin that Little Deer and I shared. On my way to this wild and windswept place, I took the time to stop in St. Louis and file a land claim. I now owned a three hundred acre parcel of land that included the cabin. No matter where I lived in the world, this hallowed place would always remain in my possession and in the event of my destruction it would revert to Aro.

With a sigh I knelt before the stone fireplace and carefully lifted up the hearthstone. In the soft earth below it, I scoped out a shallow trench and then I lovingly poured first Little Deer and the Iann's ashes into the depression. I gazed at the two piles sitting side by side, as they should be, and it brought a faint smile to my lips. After a moment of silent prayer I covered the piles with dirt and replaced the hearthstone. With the end of my index finger I carved a runic deer and hawk into the stone; none save me would ever know the glyph's meaning.

Sometime later I rose from the ground and took a closer look at what remained of the cabin. Before leaving this wild place again to return to my work as a physician, I intended to rebuild the structure and fulfill the promises I'd made the day I took Little Deer away from here; _I'll build you a new house with naught but my own two hands._ I still grieved over my lost family, and found myself sobbing uncontrollably more often than I liked, but I also felt my wounded heart beginning to heal. Every time despair threatened to devour me, I remembered the glorious sight of Little Deer and Iann in their transcended forms and the powerful wings of hope uplifted me. It would take time, it would be difficult, and I would always miss them terribly, but with their everlasting love and God's mercy and grace, I knew I could survive.

**O0o0o0**

_**AN: So Little Deer and Iann have joined the ranks of the Spirit Beings, but keep in mind that she never really stopped believing that she was a daughter of Thunderman and therefore a Sky Being. I know some of you might think its a little hooky, but I needed to find a way to give Carlisle back hope and his will to live . . . in modern terms, he needed closure. It also serves to reinforce his belief that vampires do indeed have souls; a point he eternally tries to impress on his family, especially Edward. **_


	50. End Notes

Ending Notes:

_. . . I still grieved over my lost family, and found myself sobbing uncontrollably more often than I liked, but I also felt my wounded heart beginning to heal. Every time despair threatened to devour me, I remembered the glorious sight of Little Deer and Iann in their transcended forms and the powerful wings of hope uplifted me. It would take time, it would be difficult, and I would always miss them terribly, but with their everlasting love and God's mercy and grace, I knew I could survive._

_The End_

0o0o0o

This always seems to happen in my writing: the natural conclusion of a story unfolds under my fingertips and I don't realize it until the after the fact.

I want to take this opportunity to thank everyone who has taken this incredible and breathtaking journey with me. Forty nine chapters is a long time to stick with a story, especially considering my spotty posting schedule. You have all been wonderful and I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. To those of you who took the time to post reviews, I give you an extra special thank you. Not only were your comments encouraging, but they challenged me, made me think (some of them made me laugh too ;P), and in turn they made Little Deer a better story. And to The Mighty Blue Pen; you took an interest in this story and in me, I am humbled by that. Your encouragement, suggestions, and honest commentary had a direct impact on the quality of my writing and on this story . . . a thousand thank-yous for that.

For those of you who might ask . . . Well, what happened next? What about Edward and Esme and the rest, how did Little Deer impact Carlisle's future family? I offer a twofold answer: A) let's not totally reinvent Twilight, we all know the masterful story SM wrote. It was never my intention to detract from her work; I only wanted to fill in a few blanks. B) Aren't those burning questions, the _'I wonder what ifs'_ and _'what happened next'_, the very foundation of the Fan Fiction Experience? Imagination is the key that unlocks a shackled mind and sets the spirit free to ponder the extraordinary; it all begins with . . . tell me a story.

See you soon in the world of possibilities.

Until next time,

Blueroan


End file.
